Shining Legacy
by Demonic Weasel
Summary: Destiny and prophecy meet when the Shining Force and their allies wage war on Mishalea and her allies, but no one may triumph unless the gods will it...
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1:

Schemes

You can add up the parts  
but you won't have the sum  
You can strike up the march,  
there is no drum  
Every heart, every heart  
to love will come  
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring  
Forget your perfect offering  
There is a crack, a crack in everything  
That's how the light gets in.

3rd verse and Chorus of "Anthem"

Lyrics copyrighted to Leonard Cohen

"Make your report fool!" ordered a smooth and deep feminine voice.

"Max is closing in quickly Milady; he has just destroyed yet another outpost." The High Captain informed in a broad tone. High Captain Paezorta was a powerful looking Dark Elf. His features were unremarkable, but there was some grace and fluidity of his movements that drew the eye. Every small little movement of his body worked in harmony and bespoke of an immense control. He was tall for an elf with pale skin, delicately pointed ears, and shrewd purple eyes. He was always seen in the garb of a warrior; his armor was elven-crafted, hard as the best, but so light to allow for easy movement. It was a glossy black as were his boots and helmet. Indeed the only hint of decoration about his outfit was found in the fur lining his boots and the feather in his helmet, both a pale golden yellow. One of his gauntleted hands rested on the hilt of his sword, which when drawn was a pale red color which brilliantly caught any light that it might have been drawn amidst. He also wore a well-cut cloak that complemented his frame and was the off-set of his black armor, pure white. Everything about him suggested power. Despite this he seemed to quail in fear of the woman's voice.

There was a short pause then the High Captain continued. "I have been told that he defeated Jaroll." He hastened to add, "Although it's impossible to say at this point we have received indications that there might have been casualties for the Shining Force…" A long and intense lull filled the room. Captain Paezorta fervently hoped that his punishment would not be too harsh. In fact he was certain that he had just bungled his career as it had, after all, been he who had urged Jaroll onward and helped him plot the fight. So he was understandably surprised by his mistress's reply.

"Excellent. Paezorta, send a runner to the servants of Iom and tell them that we offer them friendship and will willingly offer them the Necklace of Darkness in return for the Cloak of Shadows. With such an exchange in precious items, the light will surely fall and darkness shall triumph!" The ruler proclaimed with a grin of excitement on her face. The leader of the most ancient and powerful secrets of Darkness stepped out from the ancient statue that she had been standing behind. Legend had it that the original creator and Lord of Darkness had been the figure from the statue.

As for the terrible Lady of Darkness, who had now revealed herself and displayed her very interesting figure; her flawless skin held the color of a delicate lavender while her long, deep and vibrant purple hair that framed her face, enhancing her beautiful complexion, went to the small of her back. With a very charming yet wanting mouth and focused, amazonite-green eyes mouth that many mortal men with weak wills had lost their souls in those seeming pools.

The woman's expression was almost always intense, serious, and as hard as stone, which was the only thing about her elegant persona that made men fall to their knees in nervousness and worry. Her lesser crown that displayed her high rank in the world of darkness was made of gold and bore a clear subtle blue gem at its center. A necklace of darkness hung around her throat and a shard of a crystal hung from her almond-colored belt. She wore dark-colored robes that clung and moved suggestively against her body. All in all she was really quite beautiful in a strange way.

Paezorta's mouth went dry at the sight of her, yet the officer ventured a question: "Should I send messages to others of the Darkness Lady?" He asked in a weak voice as he brought his hands together and tilted his head downwards slightly. He struggled to keep the surprise out of his voice, not quite certain that had succeeded. An alliance was a shocking suggestion though, really quite unprecedented. It was true, there had been occasions over the years that the darkness had fought the light where various sects had called brief truces with each other, but an alliance? It was absurd.

In the meantime, she shook her head distractedly then snapped her crystal-green eyes directly towards him, as if her previous distracting thoughts were suddenly and completely forgotten. She smiled faintly, although it was a sly, cruel looking expression. Her voice sounded sympathetic and kind but it sent chills down the Elvin captain's spine.

"I was very sorry to hear that your brother was killed attempting to resurrect the Dark Titan." Paezorta tried his hardest to keep his anger and fear out of his voice as he heard her contemptuous tone. The dark elf had loved his brother. Silently he reminded himself of everything that he owed this woman, everything she and she alone had done for him. She still protected his most deadly secret, had given him a position of power and prestige. His brother on the other hand had never regarded him with much warmth, let alone love, and had often been inclined to small cruelties at Paezorta's expense. He should, he knew, be devoted to his mistress and put the fate of his older brother from his mind. But he had loved his brother. "Is that all Great One?" He tried to dull his harsh tone.

The Lady of Darkness leaned back slightly as a smirk formed across her face. "Yes that is all, but I will have more orders for you no later than three days from now." Bowing, the High Captain took just a few moments to collect his thoughts before preparing to bring loyal counsel to the dark mistress he had pledged his life to. Of course, he had other, more pragmatic reasons for bowing as well. While he did feel true _respect _for this mistress of his, bowing gave him the chance to hide his expression from her. His jaw worked silently for some few moments, though he fancied she was not deceived.

Slowly, Paezorta brought his head back up, stiffening his spine with the silent affirmation of those things which were most important to him; honor, duty, loyalty, obedience. And her. Always her.

"Was there something else you wanted?" she asked innocently.

"I…" in a rare flash of nervousness, his tongue stumbled. "I question your wisdom in dismissing this new fall of ours so swiftly."

An ironical eyebrow shot up. "_You_ would question _my_ wisdom?" The Lady of Darkness shook her head in what must have been feigned bemusement. "It must be rather more serious than you've let on, Paezorta."

The High Captain could feel a slow flush spreading up his face at her heavy mockery, but he did not rise to the bait. He might have done many things in his life, but he would not demean himself. Paezorta had tasted too much of humiliation in his life to acquiesce to any more just for someone else's amusement. Even to her. He merely said, "Jaroll was a good officer. He was shrewd enough to lure a small contingent of our enemies. Given that they nonetheless managed to kill him and slip through our fingers, I find that worrisome."

"And," she challenged, "what would you have me do?"

He flinched, not so much at her bantering tone, but at the question. What indeed would he have her do… Shying away from such dangerous thoughts, such overwhelming impulses that threatened to shatter his veneer of good sense, Paezorta answered as literally as he could. "A chance. Patrols that is. A chance that they won't get through if we move now. A chance that we won't need to turn to others, milady."

"Ahh." Her tone was satisfied. "That is what's bothering you, turning to others. To Iom."

"I find it difficult," Paezorta admitted, "to reconcile working alongside such enemies."

"I do not. Now go." The tone was clear. His insolence would be forgotten, but only if he now obeyed. Only now. After his brother was slain.

Paezorta bowed again, and hurried off to obey the commands of the one he had pledged his life to, feeling that he had already pressed the matter beyond the point of wisdom.

She watched intently as he left and as soon as he was gone Mishalea smiled.


	2. Chapter 2 Aftermath

Chapter 2

Aftermath

Max dragged himself along the beach gasping heavily in pain. Tears of shame and grief flooded down his face as he remembered facing the arrogant officer who was called Jaroll. Max looked up at the stars and suddenly howled to nothing in particular, "You bastards. How could you let them die? Why, why? Give me an answer!" He suddenly collapsed to his feet from a severe wound dealt to him by Jaroll.

He remembered the fight so clearly…

_Jaroll tore his sword from its scabbard and lunged forward. He was really quite skilled, but Max was better. Narrowly dodging a downward swipe Jaroll managed to get far enough away to call out. Max wasn't surprised to see the reinforcements of which, he supposed there were ten or twelve. But with Amon and Balbaroy lending him air support he wasn't concerned. Charging forward he easily dodged the elementary cut that his opponent sent at him and he proceeded to lop off the soldier's head. That was when Jaroll, seeing the momentary opening, had sprung forward and dug his sword into Max's side. Max was immediately hemmed in by the reinforcements as they tried to exploit his wound and kill him. It was then that Amon and Balbaroy came to his defense and between the three of them the reinforcements were slowly beaten back until Jaroll and one other were all that remained. _

Max clenched his fists with impotent rage as he remembered the deadly turn that the fight had taken. Jaroll had suddenly called upon magic. The magic though… it had killed Amon and Balbaroy. It was then that he had been possessed of battle rage and charged forward to kill Jaroll heedless of the cost. He had taken other wounds too, gashes in his arms, a slash against his chest and a broken nose for he had put up virtually no defense. At the end though Jaroll had lain dead at his feet. Tears came to him as he remembered it. His colorful bird friends, dead.

His mind wandered back to the day when he Amon and Balbaroy had set out to kill the officer who had challenged them. He recalled Tao, so pretty, being worried about him. Anri… his queen telling them to fight for Gaurdiana. His best friend Lowe telling him to rest more trying to conceal his fear that he would never see him again. Guntz, Gong, and Luke, they were so disappointed not to be in the fight. Gort the old dwarf warrior who just wanted to do one last useful thing for the world. Hans secretly relieved not to be going as well as all of the _female_ force members who would be expecting him like Khris, and Diane. Then there was Hanzou, Musashi, Alef, Toursau, Adam, Zylo, and Bleu who, although might be slightly disappointed, just stolidly wished him luck. Mae of course not revealing much emotion. He secretly envied Hans; it was so easy for him to deal with affairs of the heart and women. For himself though, well he had trouble. He was not after all a handsome man, nor was confident where women were concerned. Max was of average height with a hard, angular face and powerful dark-grey eyes. His hair was a muddy reddish-brown and his body was honed to its keenest fighting edge. As the leader of the Shining Force he was self-assured and this lent him an air of confidence that many women might have found alluring. Unfortunately Max didn't have the same courage to face a woman as he did his enemies. When he had first seen Tao his heart had instantly been caught in her spell and he remained attracted to her. But Mae also attracted him and in such a different way. She was strong and silent, a pillar on which he had built the force. And Queen Anri was beautiful too. He groaned in pain his thoughts suddenly coming violently back to the present. He had heard something up ahead as he dragged himself across this strange beach.

_Oh damn_, he thought, moreso from irritation than any real concern. He hadn't left any of Jaroll's minions alive and even if he had it was difficult to trace someone who had used the Egress spell, so this person was probably neutral if not a friend. Or maybe not. The sound was very clear now. Someone was walking towards him. He prepared himself as best he could to go down bravely, fighting. He could see the figure now and he gasped out hoarsely, "Who are you and what do you want?"

A smooth voice answered, "My, my. You will do very well with Prince Nick perhaps I can even find a use for you." The figure stepped out and Max made a jerky motion of surprise.

"You… you…" he sputtered. He knew who this was; Anri had described him before. He quickly ran over the features that had been described to him in his mind hoping, but knowing that he would not be wrong. Yes, tall, pale, waxy, purple skin that was almost white, stringy grey hair that had been brushed back in a dignified fashion reaching to the shoulders, red and gold ceremonial robes… and the burning eyes. No, there was no mistaking this man.

Warderer smugly stated, "Cypress has fallen."


	3. Chapter 3 Council

Chapter 3

Council

There was mayhem in the camp of the Shining Force. Max had left three days ago with Amon and Balbaroy to answer the challenge of another arrogant officer. Now that he had not returned, and Amon or Balbaroy had not flown back with news a debate had broken out about what to do. Tao, a pretty elven mage with pink hair, was amongst the most outspoken debaters.

"We cannot just sit here. We have to move, and we have to move now. If we don't then, not only will it become increasingly difficult to track down Max, it will offer a perfect chance to Mishalea to move before we do."

The obvious rebuttal came almost immediately. "You're only speculating as to what's happened to Max. There are any number of reasons as to why he wouldn't be here yet that have nothing to do with him needing to be tracked down." So saying, Lowe, the group's principal healer paused for breath. He was Max's greatest friend and indeed, most people tended to befriend him. He continued, "Max could be traveling slowly because he's wounded, or he could be trying to evade attention. Really, there's no reason to suspect that he needs any large amount of help from us."

Tao shot back, "In either case that would make him vulnerable without better protection."

Lowe ran his fingers through his blue, borderline gray, hair and admitted, "Well that's true, but I see relatively little we can do about it at the moment. Sending out search parties would not be wise considering the pending negotiations."

"Oh yes," said Tao sarcastically, "It would be extremely unwise to search for Max. The Cyprian party is only expecting to negotiate with him personally after all."

"All this bickering is pointless!" Mae glared at both of them. The female centaur was the second in command of the Shining Force and tended to be extremely hard, if fair, with her subordinates. She continued, "Both of your arguments have merits, but neither shall be of any help to us if we don't view them objectively." The heat had withdrawn from the centaur's voice and her face had settled back into its customary stony expression, an expression that revealed nothing.

Indeed, for her to have betrayed any emotion at all signified how agitated she really was. Though Mae had always been somewhat taciturn, ever since seeing King Guardiana and her own father, Lord Varios, murdered by Mishalea she had adopted an ice-cold demeanor that was seemingly impossible to ruffle. She didn't have friends, nor did she seem to want them, but she did command respect from all who had fought under her. Even Tao who had never been particularly fond of Mae felt a grudging respect for the centaur.

Finally Tao replied, "As you say."

She opened her mouth to continue but a new metallic, ringing voice interrupted her, "We must help Master Max."

She sighed. Adam was, unfortunately, a little difficult to deal with. He was a robot and served Max, but since he was, essentially, a computer he understood nothing except in conjunction to his duty to Max. She opened her mouth again, but this time, Lowe beat her to it.

"Don't worry; we're just ascertaining the proper means of which to do so, Adam."

Tao got the feeling that if the robot was capable of blinking it would have done so at that moment. "Of course." She also got the feeling that if Adam had any voice tones he would have just sounded puzzled.

Turning back she unleashed a little of her pent up temper, "No matter how you twist it we have to take definitive action, now. If we don't then we risk the biggest catastrophe that we possibly could."

Mae's eyes bored into her. "I should have considered that obvious."

Losing the precarious hold she had over her temper Tao shouted angrily, "Just because you're smug that Arthur makes nighttime visits to your sleeping accommodations is no reason to_"

Mae cut her off and said, in what would have been an icy tone if she didn't use it all the time, "That's a lie. You should refrain from jumping to conclusions without all of the facts. And from making untrue accusations from the misconception that you're the only one who cares for Max."

A flush rose in Tao's cheeks. She was ashamed of what she had just said, but damn it all, she needed to vent her anger somewhere! Before she could stammer an apology of some sort Arthur spoke up. "I haven't been cheating on you if that's what you're concerned about Tao."

He was a handsome centaur with long blonde hair and a singularly attractive smile. Unfortunately he was a womanizer and a bit arrogant in his dealings with women. Max seemed to be the only one who had ever had much sway on him, although he was perfectly friendly, even charming. Tao silently admitted to herself that he was in fact charming to women when he took care not to be arrogant.

She contented herself to say, "Shut up." Turning back to Mae she asked, "And what would you do about this?"

Mae answered almost immediately, "The negotiating party must go on ahead. Having allies at this point is crucial. Perhaps we should give Max a few more days though. I'm not certain that it'd be best to weaken the camp by sending out a search party."

Gort, an old dwarven warrior, piped up, "Ye cannae be so sure lassie. Ah'll grant ye that Max does know whet he's aboot, but he's in enemy territory as far as we know ahnd even a strong warrior woould be haird-pressed unner sooch circumstances."

Tao, more a less ignoring Gort, said angrily, "What the _hell_ is wrong with you? We have to find Max above everything else!"

Mae raised a brow at her which was probably the most expressive gesture Tao had ever seen her use. "You asked me what I'd do an_"

Arthur interrupted and said in a lazy voice, "You."

"What?" Tao stammered. She had no idea what he was going on about.

Yawning, Arthur replied, "You asked generally what we would do and I answered. You."

Tao gasped in outrage, although most of the others present collapsed into general laughter. Gort snarled at him, "Shut up fair once in yaer life. And fuck you Arthur, fuck you."

"That's Tao's task."

Snarling with inarticulate rage Tao summoned an orb of fire into the palm of her hand. As a mage she had always had a gift for fire magic, and she drew amounts of it with ease that dozens of older and more experienced mages would have had to struggle to summon. She didn't mean to hurt Arthur, but she was going to give him a fright.

He drew back looking a little uncertain when Mae cut in, "Enough." She didn't raise her voice. She didn't have too. Tao glared at Arthur a moment longer and then slowly allowed the fire to melt away.

Mae said, "I've had enough. From both of you. You need to learn more discipline. Arthur, kindly refrain from opening your mouth again during this meeting or I shall be forced to treat you with more than a mild reprimand. And Tao, you do the same unless you have a further argument that is not a reiteration of what you've already said."

Mae turned back and continued, "Unless anybody else has another argument to put before me I have arrived at my decision." She paused long enough to let somebody say something and then went on, "In that case the negotiating party will go on ahead. It shall be composed of myself, Domingo, Anri, Gong, and Jogurt. I would advise all of you to gear up; we should set off as soon as possible. Gort, I'm leaving you in command." She started to turn away, but then paused and looked over her shoulder. She said quietly to the old dwarf, "Although I would tend to give it some more time, it's your call on the search parties." Without another word Mae went off to her tent, doubtless to 'gear up' as she had advised the others.

Tao sighed heavily. She knew that when Mae had a personal preference, but still left the decision up to somebody else it was as good as an order. But what was done was done and there was no point in brooding over it. Tao hated brooding. So she walked casually about the camp with her greatest friend, Anri.

Suddenly she asked, "What's it like? I mean, knowing that you're Queen now?"

Anri paused for a long moment and then she answered, "Well… it's hard of course. Father being dead, not just dead but murdered… oh, I can't explain it. And I don't…" she made a flustered gesture with her hands, "I don't know enough. I always thought I'd be ready to rule when the time came, but I don't actually know enough, history, geography, my allies…"

Tao quipped, "I'll be sure to remember to tell that to Lord Ward."

Anri groaned, "Don't even joke about that… that man. He'll be demanding my abdication without your help." Ward had served Guardiana for years, but his outlook on various policies had always irritated Anri very much. Politically the two of them were diametrically opposed and that made it very inconvenient that he was the only one able enough in the kingdom to be in the role of Regent while Anri fought with the Shining Force.

Tao knew all this and grinned, "Don't worry. Max'll take care of him."

Anri glanced sideways at her and asked, "You care for him very much don't you?"

"So do you."

"Not romantically. He's not my type."

Tao shrugged. At that moment a tall, well-built elf ran up to them.

Hans, for that was his name, grinned, "Mae sent me to ask if you're ready?"

Tao said, "She is."

Hans grinned again. "What do you know, ladies, ready and at the right time? What more could a man ask for?"

Anri replied, "What indeed?" Turning to Tao she said, "Anyway I'm off now. Be back soon I expect." With that Queen Anri of Guardiana turned and started walking rapidly away.

Hans asked, "Care to walk with me Tao?"

"If you like."

And so they walked silently for several moments. Tao took this time to study the camp that Max had chosen for the Shining Force. It was very good, bordered by a lake to the west, marshes to the south, the beginning of cliffs to the east, and the forest to the north. Naturally it had been chosen, in part, because it possessed only one viable avenue of attack, but it also provided the Shining Force with food and water.

Hans's voice cut across her thoughts. "Why, how are you Vankar old buddy?" Tao had to restrain a giggle, Hans always put on this routine with Vankar. He was a centaur and a pretty good fighter, but he spent most of his time in his cups.

The centaur looked up from the keg of ale on which he had been focusing his attention, blinked twice, and asked blearily, "Do I know you?"

Hans, keeping his voice jovial, said, "Why Vankar, don't you know me? I'm your buddy Hans!"

Vankar seemed to be studying Hans' face for a moment and then he belched. "Par'n me."

Tao edged closer and opened her mouth, but Hans talked over her. "What do you say that you pour your old buddy a cup of ale, eh Vankar?"

Vankar fumbled for several moments, searching for a spare cup, and then belched again. "Par'n me."

A sharp voice said from behind her, "I would not do that if I were you."

Tao turned to face a sleek, strong-looking man dressed in black clothing. He was the ninja, Hanzou. She said, with a trace of irritation in her tone, "It's just harmless fun Hanzou."

"Harmless fun to make mock of the vices and weakness of others? Drink is indeed a weakness and a vice, but the things in this world that drive a man, or a woman, to vice are very deadly indeed and not to be made mock of." He arched a brow at her as he continued, "Would you care for it if I, or another made mock of your weakness for Lord Max and named it as harmless fun?"

Tao flushed. "I don't have a weakness for Max."

Hanzou shrugged, "Call it what you will, your dodge tells me that you would not care for the mockery."

Up to this point Tao had, as far as things went, been enjoying the day. She stared at Hanzou for a long moment feeling irritated.

Then, in a sudden, brisk movement, she tossed her head and started walking away.

_Damn Hanzou. Damn Mae. May they both bugger off for all eternity. _

And with that thought still ringing in her head, she entered her tent.


	4. Chapter 4 Prisoner of War

Chapter 4

Prisoners of War

If he was reasonably honest with himself, Max conceded that to be taken prisoner by Warderer was more than a little disconcerting. What caused him far more immediate consternation was to be escorted to a prison cell in Skull Castle, unless of course he was suffering from hallucinations, a phenomenon that wouldn't be terribly surprising given his current condition. He didn't truly believe that though.

Still aching from being unceremoniously dumped on the stone floor of the prison cell, he slowly raised himself up, the clang of the slammed door still ringing in his ears. He heard a scrabbling sound and looked up to see the face of a second prisoner.

The face revealed hard, stony eyes that ranged from pale blue to grey, long unkempt blond hair, and a sun-bronzed face. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom he absently noted that, though derelict, the man's clothing looked to be quite rich.

The man in return studied him intently. After a moment or so he murmured, "Yes… the eyes, set of the head…" The voice was cultured and urbane. Suddenly the man asked, "You're Max, are you not?"

Max, allowing himself the assumption that anyone who was imprisoned in the cells of Skull Castle wouldn't be an enemy and would gain no advantage from knowing his identity, replied, "Yes."

His cellmate drew himself up and announced, "I have the honor to be Prince Nicholas of Cypress."

Max sucked in a sharp breath. "So, you're Prince Nick." He wasn't truly surprised by this. If Warderer, the King of Iom, was going to move against the Shining Force then it would be reasonable to assume that he had already dealt with the Kingdom of Cypress with whom he had been fighting.

Nick smiled tightly at him. "It would seem that Mishalea has chosen to make a jape of us doesn't it? We both wanted to speak to each other, and here we are, courtesy of Warderer."

Max replied dryly, "I don't suppose I have to ask you about the implications this suggests."

"Not unless you're a total half-wit." Max started to speak, but Nick spoke, "Ah, here I am forgetting my manners. Forgive me Lord Max; a man goes to rust in a cell, even his courtesies. Allow me to introduce our cell mate."

Max hated the appellation 'Lord', but he had gradually grown used to being addressed as such. At the moment though, he was curious as to the other prisoner and his eyes followed Nick's grandly sweeping hand. He vaguely made out a shape, lying down. A quiet, hoarse voice spoke two words, "Little brother."

A tumult of emotions gripped him at hearing that voice. He managed to choke out, "Kane?"

"No, Max, I'm somebody else and you're not my little brother. I just say that to random people."

The sarcasm was fairly typical of Kane. Kane was three years older than Max and tended to a much more cynical view of the world. Certainly he had been given cause for his bitterness.

Max was jolted by the intrusive memory of the time he had fought his brother. The brother that he loved so much and looked up to, why when Max was younger he bragged about Kane to multiple people. And then Kane had seemed to go insane and supported King Ramaladu personally.

_That was Mishalea's fault. _

Rather than continue his brooding Max said aloud, "So the power of Iom has joined in alliance with Mishalea."

"Quite." Nick's voice floated out of the gloom. "In my expert opinion Lord Max, this turn of events has rendered any discussion as to an alliance between us quite unnecessary. If we get out of Mishalea's power then we should join forces immediately."

"That," replied Max "goes without saying. Anyway, may I enquire as to the state of Cypress?" He arched a significant brow at Nick before remembering that the Prince probably couldn't make out the gesture in the darkness.

"It's really quite simple. Cypress has been overthrown. Warderer managed to plant some of his most brilliant underlings in the Castle. Obviously they were none of his top officers for they were too well-known by us and would most certainly have been discovered. He also, apparently, found some way of violating an ancient spell that has protected Cypress Castle from invasion for centuries, the spell of sanctuary. You've heard of it?"

"Vaguely." Max marveled at the Prince's calm. Nick betrayed no sign of agitation. He sounded polished, urbane, detached. Just to listen to him one wouldn't think that his whole world was collapsing in on him.

His monotone continued, "The details of sanctuary aren't important, nor the methods of violating it. Suffice to say that it requires a willing sacrifice. Even most fanatics aren't too eager to undergo the ritual as it calls for some extremely unpleasant… sacred rites before an equally unpleasant death. Regardless, it's clear that Warderer found someone who was willing to die and," he shrugged. "Cypress fell."

Max digested this for a moment and then asked, "But do you know anything of the current status of the Kingdom?"

"I do know that things got rather bloody once the coup began. Indeed, one of my greatest friends was cut down before my eyes. As for what happened after I was captured… I can't really say. I have heard conflicting stories as to what happened, but it seems to be a fairly wide-spread opinion that my father, King Nicholas I, escaped and formed a resistance." Nick lapsed into a brooding silence for a long moment and then said, "Since we're here for the moment we might as well exchange intelligence. By what misfortune did Warderer get his hands on you?"

"I was challenged by an officer of Mishalea's. His name is… was, Jaroll. I traveled with two friends to meet him and we fought. He was pretty good actually, now both of those friends are dead. I managed to kill him and then escaped to the Southern Shore hoping that I would not be found by other soldiers. Unfortunately Warderer was traversing the shore to make his way here, or that's what I assume."

"Jaroll… I'm not familiar with that name."

"You wouldn't be. He was minor. And now may I ask who this brilliant underling of Warderer's was who staged such a successful coup?"

"Uglu." Nick practically spat the name, which, given the circumstances, was an understandable response. "I thought that I knew about combat, but that one… suffice it to say that he really is brilliant."

Max rubbed his chin and finally muttered, "Damn. That's discouraging." After a heavy pause he continued, "But Warderer and Mishalea cooperating? I wouldn't have expected that one."

Nick frowned, "I know that the factions of darkness have always fought each other for supremacy, but why shouldn't they unite against a common threat? It's what any sane war-leader would do."

Max pointed out dryly, "Disciples of omnipotent rulers of darkness aren't exactly what I'd term, sane. And anyway, I know that Warderer hates Mishalea beyond all reason, though I don't know why."

Nick admitted, "I've heard something of that myself."

Max sighed and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. "What do you know about Warderer?"

"Just about as much as everyone who's tried to find out about his past does."

"Namely?"

"That he's a crazy upstart who sprang up from no where several hundred years ago and eventually became the Disciple of Iom. Also that he waged war on Mishalea above all else."

Max rubbed his chin as he said, "I used to think it was just a power struggle. But that's not it. Of all the tyrants that've sprung up over the years he's the only one who's ever sided with an ordinary kingdom."

Nick sat straight, "I've never heard that before."

"Mishalea at some point had a son who… ran off. Apparently he ran off to learn from some old wizard who lived in Thornwood, so she blamed the kingdom. Nobody would have been unduly concerned about this amongst the dark factions, all it meant was that Mishalea would vent some of her spleen, but Warderer sided with the Kingdom for a brief time, just because the city had made Mishalea bleed."

"As fascinating as that is I don't see how it helps us in our current circumstances." Nick's voice was slightly snide. Then again, Max supposed that if he'd been locked up by his mortal enemy indefinitely for a good deal of time he'd be low on patience too. And that was without the guilt of having lost one's home.

So he replied, "I don't see that there's much we can do about our situation. We're locked up, exhausted, and Mishalea isn't so stupid as to allow us any chance to use magic. We may as well make ourselves comfortable."

Nick sighed, "You are, of course, right Lord Max. It's just so infuriating. Anyway, I think it's my turn to ask a question; they say you know more about Mishalea than anyone else alive, and you were certainly around when she started this. What can you tell me about her?" Before Max could begin he added, "I understand that did have an encounter with her during the Runefaust Conspiracy."

Kane stirred for the first time. "Protectora." His voice was hoarse. "Call it by its proper name. Protectora."

"Protectora if you like then."

Max hesitated before saying, "I don't… I don't truly know much about her. I've fought her, yes, but other than that…"

For the first time a trace of impatience crept into Nick's voice, "Humor me Lord Max, if you would be so kind."

"Well, to put it bluntly she's brilliant. Mishalea does _not_ make mistakes and she knows what she's about."

Nick had the same edginess in his tone, "Could you be a bit more specific?"

Kane's hoarse voice cut in, "She has one of the most powerful intellects you'll ever come across. She's ruthless, she's skilled, and above all she's careful. I know. I fought for that bitch."

Max automatically said, "That wasn't your fault."

Kane snapped, "Yes it was! It was _I_ who failed to act quickly enough. I had the chance to stop her and I let it slip away! Don't you understand? _I_ was the first person to realize her presence, _I _was the man who knew what she could do, and _I _was the fool who failed to act!"

"Don't you see that it wasn't your fault? You couldn't have any idea what was about to erupt, all you had to go on were ancient texts."

A hoarse, dry noise filled the air and Max realized that Kane was sobbing. "Fuck you Max, and the lies that you tell for love."

Nick's moody voice interposed, "Loathe as I am to interrupt personal matters this rather maudlin disagreement of interpretation is not especially helpful to us."

Max was not prepared to back down in his defense of Kane, but he decided that Nick had a point; the conversation had become unproductively maudlin. So he asked, "And how did you arrive down here Kane?"

Kane laughed morbidly, "Zeon. The Vandals. Only myself to blame."

"_What_ are you talking about?"

Nick said shortly, "He's referring to Mishalea's attempt at bringing all the major factions of darkness together and melding them into an alliance."

A cold pit formed in Max's stomach. He made the obvious argument. "She can't do that; they all hate each other too much to cooperate…"

Kane laughed again, "They're all scared of you little brother. More scared than they hate. Scared enough to join their efforts into killing you."

"But they won't! Mishalea may have tried it, but_"

"Too late. Warderer's already joined her and I know that Zeon will soon. I tried to stop it. I failed. And I was the factor that drove Zeon into her arms. He might have chosen to stay on Grans Island and finish cleaning up his own mess if I hadn't failed and inadvertently shown him how serious things are here. My fault."

Kane's voice burned with self-recrimation. Max felt weak and tears clouded his eyes. He slammed a fist against the floor as he croaked, "No. That hasn't…"

"It has Lord Max. And that's not all." Max glared hatefully at Nick even though the Prince couldn't make out his features in the dark. So far the young aristocrat had been a burning beacon of logic and offered something solid to hold on to, but Max didn't want logic. He wanted things to be the way they used to be.

Kane's voice was rough as he said, "Rilix the Vandal. That's the other one. She's joined with Mishalea and that's the thing that originally galvanized me into action."

Max's response was more confident this time. "That's ridiculous. Mishalea would never side with a Vandal. They're all much more powerful than she is and could use her as they wished. Mishalea might take a gamble from time to time, but not one that she knew she couldn't win."

Kane shouted, "Goddamn you Max! You're not going to be able to make the situation any better by pretending that it hasn't happened. And you're not going to excuse my failure with your endless rationalizations."

Max said quietly, "Kane, you don't have to keep doing this to yourself. Join the Shining Force where you can be backed up in whatever attempts you make. Don't seek death."

Kane turned away, his breathing shallow. "I do have to. It's all my fault. And I have to redeem myself for the tortures, the rape, the butchery…" His words were choppy and harsh.

"You were controlled Kane and it wasn't your fault!"

"Max, I understand that you know about killing, who doesn't in this damn country? Even about being the inadvertent cause of suffering. But do you have any idea how it feels to have been the one who killed an old man for not bowing? To order the slaughter of helpless people and partake in it? To have had your way with whatever woman you want? You don't know how that feels. It doesn't matter that I was controlled, I did it. I felt it happen. It was there in me too, a genuine enjoyment of what I was doing. A vicious bloodthirsty monster egging me on."

Nick interrupted yet again. "_Enough_. This discussion is pointless and we still have many things to discuss. I suggest that w_"

But Nick didn't have a chance to make his suggestion for the doorway to the cell banged open causing them all to wince at the sound and at the light streaming in through the doorway at their sensitive eyes. Paezorta the elf, looking almost detached, pointed a finger at Max saying, "You are to come to the interrogation chambers now."


	5. Chapter 5 Further Developments

Chapter 5

Further Developments

Mishalea was in high bad humor. Her successes of late had been many; Warderer had put aside his private feud with her, Rilix the Vandal was her ally, even Zeon the King of the Devils had bent his stiff knees, doubtless recognizing the necessity of killing Max. She even had Kane, Max, and Prince Nicholas held in her dungeons. Given all of this it would doubtless be expected that she would be in a celebratory mood. But to let down one's guard was death. _A heart of stone always wins, in the end._ And anyway, despite all of this she had suffered certain setbacks.

Max had, disappointingly, proven to be most resilient to all the methods that had been tried on him and had proven to have a flair for withstanding torture. Ordinarily of course she would simply have had him killed; the best way to deal with any group of malcontents was to kill their leader after all. Then they would usually collapse. Mishalea knew, however, that the Shining Force would fight on to the bloody end regardless of Max's death. Oh, to be sure, they couldn't replace such a brilliant leader and he did wield the Chaos Breaker which was the single greatest threat that he posed, but she would prefer to have him killed only after he had revealed to her the best way to kill his friends. Nothing, however, would be gained from brooding over what she already knew so Mishalea purposely made her way to her cradle of destiny, the hidden Shrine of Darksol

Gathered in the shrine were her most trusted officers, and allies. Rilix the enchantress sat in a chair that hovered thanks to the strength of her magical powers. She was an inferior Vandal, very shrewd and very powerful. She was an ancient crone, but none dared to allude to that as she also had a vicious temper. Warderer calmly leaned against the ancient statue and smirked slightly as he made his eyes more familiar with Mishalea's shapely body.

The officers of Warderer seemed slightly surprised by his actions. None of them truly knew Warderer though. _Not the way I know him_. At the bottom of the ladder was Sir Gordon. She had heard his name but barely knew anything else about him. He had a reputation for being a fool. Regardless of his intellect he was a powerful-looking man and wielded a staff. Lord Solo was somewhat better known to her. Indeed, of all Warderer's officers Solo had served him the longest. That alone said something about him. He was an older man in blue robes with only one functional eye. Both his command of magic and military strategy was quite impressive and he had a greasy, sly air about him. His voice always rasped as though he had been burned in combat. General Barbara was also well-known to Mishalea. She had pale green skin, deep red hair, and a perpetual smirk on her face. Barbara was a brilliant strategist and warrior, but she was held back by her violent and uncontrollable temper. She also despised Solo. The last one was a quiet knight known as Hindel. He was easy to overlook and always dressed in pure black battle armor with an ornate helmet that also served as a mask. She felt his eyes watching her through the slits in his mask, one hand resting on his sword hilt. She felt uneasy. She didn't know enough about Hindel. She'd have to learn more.

Her eye quickly roved over her own officers. High Captain Paezorta was in attendance looking as he always looked; cold and dangerous. She was now the only one alive who knew his most deadly secret. Then there was High Commander Lynx. Lynx was a strong man with powerful bones and he was very handsome. He was also given to a certain amount of selfish disregard to his fellow officers. Furthermore he unfortunately valued the code of honor which could make him somewhat difficult to get on with. Despite all of this he was quite brilliant. Sub-Commander Eiku was the next of them. He was, Mishalea secretly believed, the most ingenious soldier she had ever known. He was also one of the most dangerous men she had ever known. By all the merciful gods above and below, Eiku had slaughtered everyone who got in his way for power. There was no one he wouldn't kill or lie to in order to gain what he wanted, his own father included! That of course was why Lynx had been promoted to High Commander, not Eiku, although both he and she knew that the post could have been his. Her last officer, Magus, was a gullible, pretentious, and self-important fool who overrated his abilities in magic, war, and psychological knowledge of people.

She began to speak, but Warderer beat her to it. "Ah, what a pleasure it is to see you all again!" His deep voice rang with insincere friendship and good cheer. Even Mishalea marveled that a smile could look so malevolent.

Warderer, in the mean time, was looking everybody up and down as though they were prospective servants. "Paezorta, as pretty as ever I see! And Magus, you really are trying to become the fattest man of all the darkness aren't you?" He moved on as Magus spluttered in outrage, "Rilix, Lynx, no I really can't think of anything to say to you." He leaned over to Eiku and whispered in his ear loud enough for all the others to hear, "Don't sulk Eiku. It doesn't become you."

Eiku said simply, "You really are mad. And all this time I thought that people were just being unkind."

"Oh, that's good, very good."

Mishalea's tone was icy. "Did you come all this way just to insult your betters and cause ill-feeling?"

Warderer pouted, "It hurts me when you speak to me that way. Besides, if you were my betters you wouldn't be so concerned about what I'm going to do now that the Shining Force has popped up."

Lynx said, "You are one of us and now that all of the Darkness is threatened we mu_"

"Yes, yes, we must band together so that the Darkness may prevail before we can carry out our own petty quarrels. I know the doctrine by heart. Before anyone else could protest Warderer said, "You can come on out now." From behind the statue he had been leaning against came out five figures all of them undead. Warderer grinned slyly and said, "Come now Lady, surely you can guess who these are unless you've grown stupid in your old age."

Mishalea ignored the insult as her mind whirled. "These are the minions you sent into Cypress? But I thought that Woldol and his cohorts were killed."

Woldol said in a strange rattling voice, "Once I served Iom and King Warderer. But death supersedes all. And so, here I am, and my followers save for the treacherous Dantom."

Mishalea stared straight back into the dead, frozen eyes. Was Woldol lying? Mishalea was inclined to believe that he was, but there was no reason why he would lie.

That was when Paezorta spoke up. "Lady," he murmured, "May I introduce you to two who survived the destruction of Ogedan?" Without actually waiting for approval he called out to _his _particular friends. Out came two, looking very much the worse for wear.

Mishalea was stunned, although she kept her face impassive. One of them was an obscenely fat reptile. His name was Bangar and she knew a little about him. He had an unquenchable lust for power (and lust in general) and was a brilliant strategist. On the other hand if you knew how to, he was one of the most easy to manipulate, deceive, use, and play off of. The other was a Dragon Warrior named Gwaid. He was a master of fire, and always wore a mask concealing a face marred only be a single scar on his cheek. He was powerful and well built, wearing a little protective armor. He didn't have many weaknesses either.

Mishalea drew in a sharp breath and said slowly, "Welcome to my Council, I don't particularly care how you survived, but at any rate enough of this. We need actual ideas of what to do concerning the Shining Force rather than sitting around doing our best to be obnoxious." She aimed a glare at Warderer as she finished.

Warderer stirred slightly and said airily, "It was I who toppled the Cypress Kingdom, and now Wodol and his forces are my gift to you. They can easily gain armies of assassins, to deal with our foes." Wodol said nothing.

Mishalea's fists tightened as she asked, "And what is the state of things in Cypress? Last I heard you only controlled the castle."

"Oh that's good, very good. The situation is under control. There is a group of malcontents at large, they call themselves the Freedom Fighters, but I can handle them. You might be interested to know that they were led by the illustrious King Nicholas I."

Warderer arched a brow at her as she considered the information. She had heard of the death of King Nicholas, but her spies had related confused stories as far as that went. Most likely Warderer was just trying to maneuver for credit.

Lynx, looking a little ashen faced, admitted wearily, "I haven't made any progress in the interrogation Lady. I am sorry but I can't break him"

Eiku sneered, "Time to stand aside then you coward and allow some one who can actually do the job do it. Doesn't your sense of honor prohibit you from torture? Or are you just a liar?"

Lynx's face blazed with defensive anger and he leaped up to unsheathe his blades when Rilix knocked him and Eiku to the ground with a bolt of energy.

The enchantress snapped, "Shut up and get to the task at hand." She then ignored them even as Eiku shot a look of glowering resentment at Lynx.

Rilix continued, "I am trying to read their movements in my crystal but they are somehow blocking its powers. If I can get it to work though we will know everything that we need to."

The next to speak was Gordon.

"I've been trying to gain more allies and soldiers. I haven't been very successful, but I believe that what we need is an infiltrator."

Barbara said impatiently, "That would have been done already if it was possible, but perhaps it would be possible to lure them into a trap…"

Magus nodded and said, "Yes I've made several physical traps, but they always fail. However a trap more psychological in nature might be the key to this particular lock."

Solo rasped, "I have been busy creating an underground fortification that should be quite useful when finished. It's weakness of course is from the top, but that should be fairly simple to defend against."

The knight, Hindel, stirred and added, "We need to make sure that nobody from Parmecia can assist them as well."

The undead King Edmond said, "We can create armies easily enough."

Paezorta added, "Simply the best thing to do would be to gain all of these secret advantages and attempt to learn what we can of Max before we strike."

Bangar suddenly croaked, "Sss Sss, Yesss, all of thizzz is very good, but perhapsss I can attempt to control the water around here so that they can be ambushed, sss sss sss."

Gwaid rumbled, "The only thing I can add is to set up a spy network." He shrugged his massive shoulders and said nothing more.

Mishalea nodded slowly and said, "Yes, all of you can work on these ideas and as for Max, I think I'll have to add my own personal touch." She made a mental note to herself to try and keep her allies a little more unbalanced. This meeting, though profitable had been far too systematic and controlled. She couldn't allow them to get their bearings too well.

Bangar stirred and murmured, "I wonder if I might not try a little idea Lady, in that ressspect?"

"Tell me," she ordered. Bangar told her and she dismissed all of them as well as giving him leave to try his idea.


	6. Chapter 6 Allies

Chapter 6

Allies

Mae the centaur trotted along briskly with the party she had selected for the negotiations. She seemed, as she well knew, cool, confident, and emotionless. Inside, however she was a chaotic whirl of thought and emotion.

Each step that she took sent pain lancing through her. She remembered her father, Lord Varios of Guardiana and how he had been brutally murdered by Galm the Vandal. It had been after that that this insidious hatred had taken over her. Mae had always been a little shy and had, as a result, tended towards solitude, but after she had seen Varios cut down she had frozen completely. She was now as cold and deliberate as ice and her hatred of the darkness, and all those who worshipped it was absolute.

By the gods, it hurt her though. She had loved the world she had been born into. She had loved her father, the man who had made so many simple little things magical, and, though she was taciturn, she had loved the few people that she had, to a minor extent been friendly with. In a single brutal attack Mishalea and Galm between them had killed, not only her father, but her capacity for open emotion. Even more than that, after she had withdrawn she had become more critical of those around her, she was always fair, but she had become hard.

_Damn the darkness. Damn Mishalea. Damn Galm. I'm dying because of what those bastards did to me. _

She still felt the guilt as well. It didn't matter to her that Galm was one of the most powerful beings in existence; she still felt that she ought to have been able to stop him. She couldn't protect her liege and she couldn't protect her father. Nothing would change that. All that remained to Mae was to kill in retribution, and to rebuild Guardiana.

_And Max._

Max remained to her as well. She already knew that he would never look upon her as a woman… so she had transformed her love for Max into duty, devotion, and honor. She had never really known Max before the war had come. Of course she had known that her father had shocked the military of Guardiana by choosing to personally train Max, but she had never associated with him.

It was true that she had been slightly inclined to favor him, if for no other reason than the way he, quite unintentionally, stirred up the pretentious militia force into an apoplectic fury; a spectacle that Mae had found rather amusing.

`Aside from that instance, however, Mae hadn't ever really spoken with Max, a response that, quite apart from her general introverted tendencies, had been partially caused by a faint contempt that she felt for the peasant class. She had grown closer to Max after the attack on Guardiana, for in the death of Varios, he too, had lost something. With the death of his mentor, he was the only one that she had felt could really empathize with what she had lost.

As she had worked with him she had been struck by all of the noble qualities he embodied. Most of all though, Max had a gift for winning friends. Everybody he met liked him, and he liked them. He always saw the good qualities that they embodied and he treated everybody alike, with respect. She clenched her jaw as she remembered the sack of Guardiana, the first time she had truly worked with Max.

_It was a rainy day. Mae's head ached abominably as she struggled to remember why she had gone to sleep on the floor. As she managed to get her head up and her vision cleared she saw that she was in the audience chamber of Guardiana Castle. Her vision was still bleary and she felt quite dazed, but she recognized the lifeless bodies and she immediately felt the weight of sorrow. _

_The king still sat slumped in his chair, lifeless and cold. Her king. She had failed to protect her liege. Always in life the king had been so animated. Unnaturally tall and unnaturally pale he had possessed a quality that dominated any room which he occupied. He had been a political animal to his core, but he had, Mae still believed fervently, not been immoral. He had been a truly kind man, a man who weighed his words and treated his people with compassion. He had been a great king and the world would be poorer for his loss. _

_Her eyes flew to her father's lifeless corpse, a little to the left of the throne. Pain wracked her as she saw him lying there. In life Varios had been a stately looking centaur and he had bourn his age well. His armor had usually been immaculate, not so much because of any special care that he had taken with it, but more that he had so rarely needed to fight. What a warrior he had been though! He was brilliant in a fight moving faster than his opponent, never speaking, his moves effective…Not even her father's rising apprentice, Max, had been a match for him and Max had successfully defeated his own brother, a ruthless and powerful Runefaustian Lord. None of this, though, truly explained Varios. He had been so much more than a brilliant warrior… he had been… he had been…  
_

_In an instant her thoughts moved on to her father's last moments. The way he had stood Galm down. The sword that had plunged through his immaculate armor and into his vulnerable, exhausted physical shell, spewing blood everywhere. _And her father's blood rained down._ The blood was, she knew, on her hands and hers alone. And then the way that Varios's legs had jerked as Galm pulled the blade out of him…_

_She realized that as these ugly thoughts had passed through her mind a sound had dislodged itself from her throat. She felt a hard, calloused hand helping her up and she looked up into dark eyes and a hard, angular face. _

_Max asked abruptly, "I hear you can fight?" _

_Mae nodded mutely. _

_Max thrust a lance at her. "Here then. Take this. One of them, Eiku I believe, is even now attempting a sack. Jarl's organizing the remaining knights as best he can, but I need every fighting hand that I can get about me now, up there, where Eiku is." _

_Mae objected irrationally, "But what about them?" and gestured vaguely at the bodies before continuing; "Besides you don't command…" _

_Max snapped, "Dammit all and think for a moment would you? I'm capable of handling myself and others in a fight and that's all that really matters right now. We have to fight." _

_Mae noticed then that Max was carrying that strange green blade that Galm had used to kill Varios. She croaked, "No. Not that sword. Blood… that sword has blood…" _

_Max paused long enough to glare at her. "I lost my old one fighting against Balbazak. This'll do." He seemed on the verge of marching off, but then he said in a softer tone, "I'm sorry about Varios. He was the greatest man I ever knew." _

_Mae felt tears threatening to burst out and turned her gaze away. She frowned at the blackened mass; it looked like a charred body. Max followed her gaze and said, "That's Councilor Nova. Mishalea did it before she left. Ward also was attacked. I think his legs may be paralyzed." _

_Mae stared in shock at the blackened body. The councilor had, without her ever really being aware of it, been a pillar of her life. He had always been there, kind, gentle, dedicated, scholarly… Sorrow consumed her and she choked out, "Must it always be this way?" _

_Max sighed, "I've been wondering that for my entire life really." Then he regained his former hardness, "We have to move though since we can both fight. Come on." And as he started off he spared the bodies in the room one final brief glance. _

_At that moment Mae's hatred of Mishalea was complete and she knew that she would join Max in his attempt to repel the sack, but she nonetheless made her final, weak protest, "But Galm…" _

_Max's answer floated back as he took off running, "I loved Varios too, but Eiku is here, now, attacking Guardiana, and he would have killed your father just as quickly as Galm did. So let's go kill the son of a bitch!" _

Mae blinked as the memories flashed by her eyes.

_Eiku_. She could see him now, his face smug and his blue skin taught across strong bones. After the sack Max had not taken any time to rest. He immediately set out, gathering the friends who would follow him to fight Mishalea, Mae included, and to speak to the allies of Guardiana to prepare for the coming storm.

He had made arrangements before leaving Guardiana of course. Ward had indeed lost the use of his legs, but he was the only person left who was qualified to act as Regent, so Queen Anri had appointed him with a notable lack of enthusiasm. Similarly Jarl was named Lord Commander of the remnants of the army as he had proved himself capable and strong.

Mae had made an effort not to resent Jarl for taking her father's post; Varios was dead and someone needed to defend Guardiana. Besides, Jarl was a good knight; chivalrous, brave and stolid. There was no reason to begrudge him his well earned position.

Max had not been granted the troops he had wanted from any of his allies. The various leaders had all reasoned that as long as the war with Runefaust raged it would be unwise to invest their armies in fighting the murderous witch. They had, however, reluctantly agreed to form a supply line for Max and that had been invaluable.

Of course, Mae was certain that they all regretted the decision now. Kane had killed King Ramaladu of Runefaust only a month later and the truth of the conspiracy became known. By that time, however, Mishalea had had the time she needed to make sure that her own armies took the place of the Runefaustian armies and all the allies were embroiled in the same war that they had been.

At the same time Mae acknowledged that it might all be for the best, despite the prowess of the force there were a mere thirty of them and if Mishalea didn't have to divert her strength to other fronts then, no matter how skilled they were, the Shining Force would be crushed.

Domingo flew straight up into the air and then came back down where he reported with alacrity, "I'd say we're about an hour away from the meeting place."

Startled out of her reverie Mae looked up, even as all of these ugly thoughts flashed through her mind, and said in a bored voice, "Right, we'll try to get there before noon."

---

Domingo sighed. He was finding the journey a little boring. In a desperate attempt to find focus he glanced over at Mae. The centaur was a conundrum to him. He had a healthy respect for her, but she was the single iciest individual he had ever known.

_I wonder if she could smile even if she wanted to._

He floated over to Queen Anri of Guardiana. He opened his mouth and managed a weak sounding, "Hello."

Anri peered up at him and blinked. "Oh. Uh, hi Domingo." The magical creature marveled at how easily she could make such a greeting.

Domingo knew that he was considered amusing by most, and so he waited for a moment hoping for something crushingly witty to come to him. The best he could manage though was, "So, what do you think of the whole situation? Negotiations and everything…?" He immediately cursed himself for choosing such a banal topic. But having embarked upon it, he had no recourse but to follow through.

He wasn't certain, but he thought that Anri's brow lifted very fractionally. She said in an offhand fashion, "Necessary of course, but probably they're going to be very awkward."

Domingo was spared the necessity of having to make a reply as Mae's monotone cut in, "We'll be there shortly. Take a few minutes to prepare yourselves. I want us negotiating to the best of our abilities."

Domingo quickly seized on the opening that Mae had unwittingly offered and changed the subject. "What do you think about Mae? I'll be the first to admit that she's a fine battle commander, but she's so stiff and cold. She doesn't…," He hesitated for a moment before choosing the word, "She doesn't live."

Anri glanced up and smiled slightly as she replied, "Well you know, her father was killed by a Vandal, right in front of her. How do you think you'd react?"

"True."

"Cynicism and hatred aren't exactly surprising reactions given the… circumstances."

As he heard the slight tremor in her voice he silently cursed himself for his thoughtless probing. Of course the subject would be painful for her; Galm had killed her father as well as Lord Varios after all. In a single last attempt to salvage the conversation he turned his attention to Gong the monk. "Well then, what do you think of Gong?"

Anri seemed surprised. "Gong?"

"Sure. Why not? Gong's an interesting enough fellow."

Anri turned her eyes upon the stolidly marching monk for a moment. Domingo followed her gaze. The monk was a very grave man and he volunteered little information. He wasn't cold the way that Mae was, but he was always grave. A big-rugged looking man, he had a certain quality about him that reminded one that he was strong rather than fat. His head was also oddly large and his eyes quite squinty.

Finally Anri said, "I've never been able to form an opinion on Gong. Except for his claim to merely be 'a simple man of the gods.' I don't believe it. There's something wrong with him."

Feeling slightly startled by her reaction Domingo replied, "He serves Max well."

Anri shook her head muttering, "I think Gong serves only Gong."

Domingo paused for a long moment at that. He supposed that he could understand Anri's feeling; he certainly didn't believe that Gong was a simple man of the gods. Of course, that rankled for other reasons too. For just a moment he felt the past well up around him. For that single moment he felt the anger, the sorrow, the pain, the disillusionment that he had known as he remembered the deception. And then he forcefully pushed the memory away from him.

_No! I am through with Farshi. _

He desperately re-focused his attention on Anri only to realize that he'd fumbled. He had paused too long. With a sigh he turned away. He knew that he shouldn't love Anri, but he couldn't help himself. She was beautiful with passionate green eyes and the lightest of blonde hair. A sweet gentle face. And she was smart, funny, compassionate… She understood the power of ice as well as he did. His was a guilty love. He was not, how well he knew it, a viable romantic interest for anybody. He was, after all, a floating jellyfish. Pain wracked him.

_Tell her, why can't I tell her? I'm a useless coward. Oh damn you Farshi. May your soul rot for all eternity after what you've done to me. This pain, it's killed me a thousand times and it'll kill me a thousand more! _

Usually Domingo was in better spirits. He had loved Anri for nearly as long as he had known her, but he had always successfully focused his attention on other things, laughed with his friends, made japes… and Max was always there to talk to. Max always had a minute for everybody. Domingo knew in the depths of his soul that there was nobody equal to Max. It had been a long time since he had felt this searing bitterness as well. He sighed. Perhaps it would be best to keep this a boring trip.

---

Jogurt had been watching his companions and considering the peace talks, as well as how probable it was that Max was alive. The hamster had a reputation for being foolish, but that was largely because he enjoyed joking about his metal helmet, a helmet of which he was rather proud. In truth though, his perception was keen and his judgments were usually astute.

At the moment the most pressing thing on his mind was the fate of Max. He didn't revere Max in quite the way the most of the others did. Max was, as he well knew, flawed. He was also the most generous, caring, and shrewd man that Jogurt knew. And so when Max was around Jogurt he had the ease to enjoy being just a man rather than an icon. Jogurt felt that bond more keenly than ever.

So to distract his mind he studied his companions.

_Mae… that seeming coldness of hers would be mostly a façade I'd expect. A skillful façade I must I admit. The others all draw strength from her, but is she so strong? Yes… but brittle too. She'll break someday, break badly too. Anri's a little more obscured._ _She doesn't offer a personality to be read, but rather exudes of confidence. Who is she really? How can I know someone that I can't read, that I can't understand? Poor Domingo. He's obviously smitten with the lovely Queen. Amusing fellow, but how much of it really is insecurity? Probably half. Poor fellow. Gong… _

The hamster's eyes narrowed as he studied the monk. Gong acted as though he was slow, but Jogurt was intensely aware of how powerful his intellect truly was. He had never been able to read much of Gong, but he knew that he disliked him. Disliked him immensely. Even as Jogurt felt a rush of distaste for the man, Gong's eyes paused on him for a moment.

_That monk is no fool._

Then Gong's rough voice interposed on Jogurt's thoughts. "The meeting place is just ahead." He sounded amused.

Startled, Jogurt re-focused his attention on his surroundings rather than on the monk and realized that they were indeed at the place.

Without looking up Mae spoke, "And now we have only to wait."

It was well past noon when the Cypress party finally arrived. Jogurt raised an eye-brow at the size of the group. Max had been requested to bring along only four companions and Mae, in Max's stead, had honored the wish. There were, however, clearly more of the Cyprians.

_Is that why they asked for the party to be so small? Probably. They want to be sure that they can take us if they have to, and I don't really blame them. Times are dangerous. They're more heavily armed, and we're outnumbered… hmm, yes they definitely have gained the advantage._

Aloud Mae said, "Party of Cypress we have long awaited your coming. I am Mae second-in command of the Shining Force. Let us discuss the possibility of an alliance."

Jogurt snorted slightly at the stilted language, but listened with interest to the reply of their leader.

A small warrior, small but deadly, came forward to speak the formalities for his party.

"My name is Ruce, and I represent this party, Mae of the Shining Force." He frowned for a moment and said, "It was my understanding that we would be dealing with your leader, Max."

Jogurt shot back, (although it sounded really ridiculous in his high squeaky voice) "It was our understanding that we would be dealing with _your_ leader, Prince Nick. So now we know where we are don't we?"

Gong, as usual, remained silent. He was in all likely-hood, summing up the Cyprian party. Jogurt figured that he had best do the same. It was; after all, always better to understand those whom you worked with.

_Hmm, there's this Ruce fellow and an Elven archer beside him. Powerful looking centaur… cool one I'd wager. Another sexy looking mage and a skilled bird warrior. Those other two are clearly monks in training. That about covers it. So they have seven on our five… not too bad. Wonder if their prince will show up?_

The archer stepped up and identified himself as Shade, and the rest followed suit. The centaur was Apis, the bird-man was Claude, the mage was Wendy, the monk that looked a little bit like Gong was called Sig, and the last man, another monk was called Cray.

Mae indicated that their force should identify themselves as the strangers had so courteously done and that was over almost immediately, leaving the formalities out of the way so that the two meeting parties could finally get down to the business that they were here for. Cypress surprisingly opened the negotiations, by explaining the absence of their leader, the Prince Nick.

"Our leader, Prince Nick of Cypress, will be coming along presently, but could not accompany us directly due to some minor problems with Iom."

Mae considered this and said, "Well I am afraid that I must explain to you Ruce that the absence of our leader Max is not something we can explain. Hear me," she called out of the grumble of protest, "We can't explain it because four days ago Max seems to have disappeared along with two bird warriors when they had gone to slay an officer who had challenged them. I understand that this isn't the admission to make to ones that you wish to ally yourself with but I believe in being honest."

The mage, Wendy, cautiously probed, "You claim to have no knowledge as to the whereabouts of your leader?"

This time Anri stepped forward to speak for her party, "I am Queen Anri of Gaurdiana and I personally understand what misgivings you may have now that we have admitted that our leader is missing, but so is yours, so I suggest that we ignore the point and get down to the reason we have agreed to meet here."

Anri spoke with the ease of one who is well used to handling delicate diplomatic matters, although she hadn't practiced it much. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed that the archer, Shade, was eyeing her. Jogurt snorted. _He and Hans should get along well._

There was a moment's worth of silence and then Jogurt decided to step in, "It seems to me," he squeaked, "That we all want the same thing. You want the power of Iom overcome and we wish to break the power of darkness as well. Think of how strong an alliance would make us," he urged. "Consider how we could help each other in destroying these two focuses of darkness. One other thing; do really think that Mishalea would have killed Max even if she could? Of course not."

Shade shifted uneasily and argued, though with a notable lack of conviction, "She's killed for much less. Anyway, if we had to divert soldiers and supplies to your cause then what would Iom do with us weakened?"

He looked around for support and saw the big monk Sig nodding earnestly.

"Yes," he said licking his lips before continuing in his moist voice, "We're not really sure that it's worth the risk. Warderer, King of Iom is shrewd opponent. If he's given any leverage to fight then he'll take it. We are barely staving off Iom's attacks as it is without fighting a war on two fronts."

"Indeed," said the other older looking monk, "I have experienced the cruelty of Iom up close and I swear to you that we must destroy that evil god, but we can't do it if we help you, so our terms are that you must help us destroy Iom first and then we can assist you."

Domingo shot back, "I've experienced the cruelty of Mishalea up close and she must be destroyed as a much greater threat than Iom could ever be."

Cray shook his head and Wendy repeated his words, "Those are our terms, take it or leave it."

As Mae stared in shock Ruce said, "So now we know what we're about don't we?"

---

Gort sighed. The old dwarf warrior felt honored that Mae had picked him to lead the Shining Force while she was away, but he felt certain that Max must be dead.

Realizing that his thoughts were becoming unproductively morbid he muttered, "Ahnd Ah raylly don't knoo hoow to hahndle these young oones."

Before the war had come he had been a run-down old man drinking heavily in the pub of Guardiana. His daughter and granddaughter both lived there too, and they had truly been fond of him. Though he had never been much of a man for the family.

When Gort was younger he had roamed the world as a warrior although he had primarily lived on the Highland Plateau. Even now the memory of the betrayal left a madness struggling to take over his soul, bitterness almost too wild to be borne.

_Ah trusted him._

After that Gort had moved off and left his young daughter to be cared for in Guardiana. He made sure to stop by from time to time, but even then he had known that he was a terrible father. The memory of that deceit still made him feel soiled.

Then the war against Runefaust had come, and Gort continued to drink. He had long ago sworn that he would never beholden to one man. And war or no war there was wine to drink, ale to quaff, beer to swig and mead to gulp. And it was on that treacherous day that the sack had come.

He well remembered it, how he had stood out and fought against Eiku with the rage on him at the murder of his family, the sack of the place he had chosen to make his home. Afterward, he hadn't really been sure if it was righteous anger that drove him onward, the liquor, or maybe because he was tired of running away. But he had fought and then staggered back to the pub having decided to get very drunk. Max had found him there.

_The hard-faced man said, "I saw you fighting out there. You were very good." _

_Gort struggled to remember his name. He had seen the youngster numerous times. Finally he just grunted._

_The man nodded understandingly and signaled for some more drinks. "Here, let me buy some of this. You seem to be in need of it. Much the same way that I'm in need of you." _

_"Whit do yae meane, laddie?" _

_"I'm starting a second war. Against the bitch who ordered that sack today. I need more warriors about me, not just ones who can twirl their axe skillfully." He tapped his head. "I need ones that can think too. You can. You were fighting alone and managed to survive. It takes more than strength of arm to accomplish such a feat." _

_Gort put his mug down. He had finally realized who was talking to. "Yae're that laddie o' Various's!" _

_Max's face went very still for a moment. Then he said in a soft voice, "Yes. I am. Various always said to me that you were a warrior born. And I believe him. Will you fight with me?"_

The old dwarf blinked fiercely. He still didn't know what it was that had caused him to break down that day. But he had and he had sobbed out his whole sorry past to Max. Max had seemed to understand though. And so Gort had broken his one true vow. He had bent the knee to Max and sworn himself to him.

That was when he heard the commotion. Turning furiously the dwarf ran into a crowd of people. Arthur was there at the center looking rather the worse for wear. Tao stood there red-faced and furious and the armadillo creature, Guntz, was there beside her looking very upset. Hanzou stood very close to Arthur, his hand resting on his blade.

He said in a chill voice, "You are a worthless, arrogant, womanizer. Why should I not kill you?"

Before Arthur could try to answer or Gort could call for order Musashi the samurai run up his katana unsheathed.

"Leave him you fool. He is a man and has a man's needs. And further more we have knowledge from Lord Otrant; we all have a role to play in Mishalea's end.

Hanzou looked up his eyes cold and said expressionlessly, "Do you wish to interpret prophecy? You know as well as I do that one explanation of his role could be his death."

Musashi's eyes tightened angrily. "Do you have even a shred of honor?"

Hanzou shrugged. "By your ridiculous code I surely have a shred."

Gort roared, "STOP! Both of yae, noo! Yae're blades. Sheathe yae're bloody blades or Ah'll doo et faer yae, up yaer bunghooles." He paused glaringly as the two complied with more than a little reluctance. Then he asked, "An, what's goin' on haer?" As he waited for an answer he rolled his eyes. Hanzou was the singular most fair and even-handed individual he had ever known, the ninja always saw things the way they really were. But even he had his blind spot and its name was Musashi. The two of them hated each other.

Hanzou glanced at Arthur and then said, "He attempted to dishonor her." He nodded towards Tao.

Gort muttered, "Ah might've knoown." He looked at Arthur and felt his axe hand twitching. He couldn't trust himself around the centaur. That same blond hair. Those same laughing, sparkling eyes. That same singularly attractive face. No. He would never trust himself to deal out a punishment. He said brusquely, "Well, as Tao's the lassie ye've ooffended, she'll deal out yae're punishment." Turning to Tao he said, "Do what yae like with him ahs loong ahs he's alive an' relatively in oone piece."

Gort turned to Lowe and beckoned at Hanzou. "Coome. We'll do a quick circuit patrol." Gort continued to methodically diffuse the situation by separating those with rising tempers. Guntz seemed furious on Tao's behalf, so he was assigned to sentry duty. Musashi was told to guard the west end which would keep him out of Hanzou's way. And everybody else was ordered to go about their business.

The three of them went out to complete the circuit. Gort was about to put a question to the silently following ninja, when he heard an indistinct sound that could only be voices.

_Damn. An ambush mayhaps?_

Signaling to the others to be quiet the old dwarf crept closer to the source of the sound. It took him straight to a circular outcrop of rocks in which a party, of what he would guess was either eight or nine at glance, seemed to have stopped.

He studied the group with interest. They didn't look like Mishalea's underlings. Then again, looks could be deceiving. There were two centaurs. One was big, even for a centaur, with a proud, disdainful face and artfully unkempt hair. The other was a bit smaller, but much more impressive. Her face, for Gort was reasonably sure that it was a woman, looked as though it could have been hewn from stone and her hair was carefully attended to.

There was also a dwarf there. His head was facing away from Gort, so the only detail he could make out was that the fellow was wearing a pot on his head. To round the party off there were four humans. One was a short mage who was appealing in a plain sort of way. There was a very short, pug-nosed man dressed in the robes of a priest and fat looking monk. The last one was tall and strong-looking with a long cloak that was light blue in color. The cut of his hair was a bit strange and he was, all in all, the most intense looking man that Gort had ever seen.

The mage said angrily, "We've come this far based on your advice. Damn, you Deanna, we've fought for you. Killed for you. We deserve to know.

The intense looking man, Deanna apparently, said, "I… no. There's nothing to say." His voice was surprisingly deep, as though it belonged to a much larger man. Gort noted with interest that the female centaur, throughout the whole exchange had had her hand resting on her lance as though ready to spring at the last moment.

The big centaur said derisively, "You only think that you can decline because you led us against those goblins. Well, tough. That was only because we didn't have a choice, not because we trusted you."

The stocky priest interrupted pompously, "As we have survived under the leadership of young Deanna, it is clearly the will of the light that he have a role to play in these tumultuous times. We have no choice but to_"

The centaur spun around and shouted angrily, "Shut up would you! We've got to go after Warderer at this point. Why the _hell_ should we have to wander the countryside rather than going back t_?"

The mage said sharply, "We can't go back to Cypress. Warderer has Cypress now."

_Cyprians!_ That decided Gort. He would show them a little hospitality.

Just as he started to move into plain sight Deanna said quietly, "Out only chance against Warderer will be to find the Shining Force. Use your brain Eric. If he thinks that he's dealt with Cypress who would he attack next? Only the other largest threat after all."

Gort moved into the outcrop. There was a general cry of alarm and scramble for weapons. He said, "If yae're looking faer the Shining Force ye've found it. Oour camp 'appens to be less than a two minute walk to the west. Oh, an' Ah feel obliged tae warn yae; if yae try any funny business Ah will o' course be equally obliged to slaughter y'all."

---

Jogurt was silently raging.

_Damn you Cypress idiots. You have the gall to demand that we turn the country over to Mishalea and act as though it's a good thing? We've been fucking set up! _

There was a smug look on the monk, Sig's, face. The others all looked satisfied but, the mage Wendy was really too much. She kept shifting as though trying to find the best position from which to show off her breasts.

Anri's voice cut coldly in saying, "What you are asking is impossible. I'm not going to betray my people to serve your needs, nor am I going to betray my leader."

The cold outburst swept along the party, but Sig retorted, "You don't even have a leader, only a memory."

Mae opened her mouth when they all heard a voice scream, "Ruce, help!"

Ruce spun around, astonishment creeping over his features as two wounded women staggered into sight.

Ruce exclaimed, "What the hell, Yeesha, Mayfair?"

Yeesha, who looked to be another mage had pale blond hair and a yellow marking on her forehead, screamed, "It's over Ruce. Cypress has collapsed! There was a coup… Mayfair and I managed to get out with Stock's help, but then… he rushed to the Throne Room when we heard fighting in there. They cut him down! They cut him down, captured Prince Nick, drove the others out and gained the castle!

Ruce stammered, "But, but, I… I, how? How is that even possible? You know that Warderer can't have… not without Sanctuary_"

"He didn't," howled Mayfair, "He violated Sanctuary, he violated Sanctuary!"

Ruce froze. It was interesting for Jogurt to watch the expressions on his face. The dwarf had come into the negotiations with the upper hand; he was ready to squeeze what he wanted out of his allies. Then, in one moment his world had fallen to pieces and he and his group were the only fighting forces that he knew had escaped. What was even worse was that his group could only be classified as a token force, not a true battalion.

Ruce said in an almost dazed voice, "Then we have no choice but to join the Shining Force in an attempt for revenge."

His voice steadied and he looked at the five negotiators, paused a moment, and then spoke.

"I'll do it," he vowed


	7. Chapter 7 Dava

Chapter 7

Dava

Dava stood outside of a mansion, on the island of Cypress, watching, and waiting for the chance she knew must come. Few people knew of Dava's existence, because all of the ones that had learned of her were dead. Dava was a Spiriter. She was the must powerful Spiriter, in the thousand year existence of the beings. She was the most powerful of all of them. She had a wild strength and control over spirits, but so had many others. She was exceedingly talented, but there were those more talented than she would ever be. No, the thing that set her apart was her cold rationality and intelligence. Now she realized that with the current struggle for power between light and dark, as they sought to destroy each other, that now was her time. She was searing with the favor of the gods because she realized that there could be no other way, and that there would be nobody left to rule except her. She was certain that the world had found its master and so the Spiriter was ready.

Dava slowly walked back towards the mansion. She had a small pumpkin like head and narrow slanted eyes as well as a wide mouth. Her skin was sun bronzed and her hair was stringy and white knotted up in a tight bun. She was emaciated and malice seemed to pour off of her body. She walked inside, even as she felt the seductive power of spirits beckoning to her. As she came inside she prepared to set her plans in motion. Dava was known or one other name. Dava the Betrayer. She had gained the title long ago when she had set spirits on her master betraying him. Some believed that she was descended from the betrayer of the gods. She came forward, to her followers and spoke.

"The time is now at hand to take control as we have been destined to do. The time is complicated and fraught with danger, but it is clearly our time. The coming of the Shining Force indeed proves the power of the prophecy of the spirits. The Shining Force must be destroyed. It will be much easier to deal with Mishalea and Iom later."

Her followers listened intently. The most senior one was a heavyset man, with a full grown beard, shifty eyes, and a big nose. His name was Bulldor, and none stood in his way. He had the ancient golden hammer which allowed him to destroy just about anyone. Another was Kisaragi. She had long, softly waving brown hair, and slender neck and an overall shapely body. She was a ninja and possessed some magical talent as well as the blade, Krajiin. She had decieved many enemies with the trap of delight and destroyed them. The last was a man with narrow slanty eyes called Chu Rao. He had a smooth baby face with a small tuft beard. He also had the ability to breathe fire. Dava had two spirit leaders. One was a Spirit Zombie, therefore, more deadly than the undead creatures usually were. He was called Ull. The other was an ancient spirit that had been sealed in the spirit realm called Baron. He naturally had all of the abilities of the greater spirits.

Bulldor stepped forward and asked intently, "So, what do you want us to do?"

Dava replied, "For you, nothing. Chu Rao and you will be allowed to attempt at helping me strategies. Kisaragi, spy on Mishalea and see what you can discover. Ull, you and your mighty Zombie spirits have the honor of destroying that pesky Shining Force. Baron, concentrate on finding the ancient weapon. Now, all of you leave me."

The captains complied and Dava took out her focus jewel. She didn't need it, but it made things easier. Focusing intently, she channeled spiritual energy and called up the spirit of prophecy.

"Speak of my destiny," she breathed.

The voice said hollowly, "I sense a strong and pained presence here."

Dava said, "Yes, the King of Cypress was destroyed by the Dragon." She spoke of the most powerful spirit. She had well understood the implications of the Cypress Freedom Fighters. And so, Nicholas the first of his name had had to die. She didn't regret it.

The Spirit said, "You shall know, if he succeeds it will be because you fail."

The spirit then vanished. Dava stood there troubled. Had she brought something dangerous into her home? She turned and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8 Interrogations

Chapter 8

Interrogation

Max was breathing raggedly. He was filthy, covered in dirt, dust, his own blood, his enemy's blood, and piss. He had been stripped of his light green tunic, and his dark blue cloak was in rags. His orange hair, normally slightly spiked, was tousled and filthy. Still, he gave himself a grin of satisfaction. He was alive and had withstood betraying the force under brutal torture. Of course, they kept healing him enough so that the next torture wouldn't kill him. He'd mostly been tortured by High Commander Lynx, although a Sir Gordon had a certain flair for the work.

_Damn Mishalea. If she keeps this up… I don't know how much longer I can resist. The Force though… they should be fine. Mae's capable. Mae. Damn, why'd you have to enter my thoughts? Anri… Tao… Lowe… Jogurt… _

The door opened and Max looked up to who had come to torture him today. Until this ordeal he had never thought that he would be glad to Paezorta. That had been a premature assumption. The sight of Paezorta now always meant the end of a day and healing. He saw an obscenely fat reptile walk in, along with Sir Gordon, and Eiku.

_Eiku._

Hatred gripped Max just at the sight of the sneering bastard.

Max laughed, "Hah, these are the forces that hope to break me. A blubberboy, a creepoid, and a very slimy oily looking officer."

In truth of course, he was in practically no position to withstand anything. He was determined to hold out though, or to die for what he believed in.

The reptile sat down next to him and said about the most stupid thing he could. "Is it true that you are a virgin?"

Max almost choked in surprise as the creature continued airily, "Well I sssupose it dossssen't matter, what mattersss is if you usssse the ancient methods of penissss enlarging. Do you?

Max sucked in a breath and snorted, "You'd love to know, wouldn't you blubberboy."

Gordon struck him in the jaw with his staff. "Answer the question," he shouted.

Bangar frowned and said, "Don't do that, sss sss sss. It completely undermines my purpossse here sss sss sss."

Eiku, for it was he, leaned over and punched Gordon hard in the face. "Idiot! Mishalea said the prisoner was not to be harmed."

Gordon strode over to door calling out, "My king shall know of this defiance."

Eiku's answer rang in his ears, "Tell your King what you want. He knows that it's only because of my Mistress that Cypress reclaimed their Castle, torched your soldiers and generally kicked your ass."

Gordon walked stiffly out his cloak swirling.

Eiku turned to Bangar and bowed mockingly as he said, "You are free to continue… have you chosen a title for yourself yet?" The reptile shook its head. Eiku mused for a moment, "Hmm, Lord, no too common. Duke Bangar perhaps? Or mayhaps sir, yes I quite like that. Sir Bangar." He shook his head and then said, "I think I'll go and make sure that Sir Gordon doesn't injure himself." With that Eiku hurried away, seemingly preoccupied.

_Bangar? A fat reptile named after a sausage? Or was the sausage named after him? Where the hell did Mishalea acquire this Bangar anyway? And what is he good at? _

Bangar politely waited a few minutes before continuing, "Ssso, where wasss, I? Ah yesss. Some people have verry good curess for the engorged penisss. That isss of courssse only if you want such a cure. I can't imagine that anyone would though, can you?"

Max decided to humor him, "No."

"Do you prefer, men, women, or both?"

Max blinked innocently as he replied, "Neither."

Bangar continued on in this vein for quite a while asking questions that were truly obscene until Max's eyes grew dull and he scarcely even thought about an answer. Bangar's eyes glinted as he asked the next question

"Doesss the Shining Force need allies in order to overcome our powersss?"

Max said dully, "Yes, I mean…"

Bangar crowed triumphantly, "Too late, sss, sss, sss!"

Max's eyes burned with a feverish fury at the trick and something seemed to break inside of him. With a howl of rage he flung himself forward, as far as his bonds would allow. It was enough. His hands closed on Bangar's throat and Max throttled him.

"I'll take you to hell, you dirty thing," screamed the prisoner.

Bangar gasped, "Gharrrrrg," and in panic used strength that Max hadn't expected he possessed. The reptile hurriedly used the bulk of his weight to slam Max back into the wall. For a moment the warrior stiffened up and his eyes burned with hatred so fierce that Bangar took a step backward. Then Max just slumped down to the stone floor with a gasp of pain. The last thing the leader of the Shining Force saw was the reptile's face, panicked and hot.

---

Bangar left the room swiftly and walked down the hallway rubbing at his throat as he did. The reptile was supposed to report to Mishalea straight away, but he had a stop he wanted to make first. His eyes darted shrewdly from side to side to make sure he wasn't being observed. He then slipped off to an adjoining hallway and lifted a stone off of the floor revealing a secret passage. He hoped that Gwaid would be there already so that he could get straight down to business. Following the secret stair he came upon the meeting room which contained himself, Gwaid and Kari. Kari had also survived the destruction of Ogedan and she was very intelligent. She had firmly established herself as their leader after Pazort had died and she decided it would be wisest to labeled among those who had died at Ogedan. The three were plotting for their own ends, or, Bangar supposed it would be reasonable to assume, they were plotting for Kari's ends in exchange for influence and power. As for Kari's physical appearance her skin and hair were blue, she wielded a staff, and her legs were very good. She had strange markings on her face and she was quite attractive. Bangar made a point of ogling her cleavage before meeting her gaze.

Kari said in a seductive voice, "Ah, Bangar. How pleased I am that you were able to join us. Gwaid has just been explaining the events that have occurred since Paezorta made your presence know." Kari spoke gracefully and nodded slightly to Bangar, his cue to make a report.

"We have been at the bussssinesss, of making Mishalea trusssst usss. Assss for the interrogation that I have jusst attended to, Max wasss responsssive to the fact that the Shining Force needssss alliesss." As he spoke his eyes left hers and once again lingered on her cleavage. He had wanted her for years and he knew that if he worked hard enough for her then he would be granted that desire.

Kari, seemingly taking no notice of Bangar's rudeness, replied, "Yes, Gwaid told me of the method you had decided to employ, and now we know that it was effective. At any rate, Mishalea well help greatly in destroying these meddlesome brats."

Gwaid asked, "Do you think that they're really a threat?"

"I'm not going to underestimate them. They have, after all, been battling Mishalea quite effectively. Despite our own little deceptions I don't think I need to remind you that Mishalea has been a successful leader of the darkness for over two millennia. You know as well as I do what that says about someone who can fight against her and get away with it, at all. Besides I remember that we lost Odegan because _you_ underestimated Alfred's ambition."

Bangar stiffened up slightly because it had been his fault that they had lost Ogedan to Alfred, although Alfred's plan hadn't succeeded either. That was probably the only thing that even slightly made up for the embarrassing failure though.

Bangar, hoping to divert the topic, quickly asked, "How cooperative should we be in dealing with Mishalea and the Sssshining Force?"

Kari replied, "Cooperative enough that the Shining Force is destroyed, but only that. I want Mishalea, Warderer, Zeon, and Rilix all to be depleted by the end of this. You should go now Bangar, so that Mishalea won't get suspicious, you too Gwaid so that you can continue planning." She turned away in clear dismissal.

---

Gwaid felt the ancient hatred boiling in his blood as he parted from Bangar. He was a solitary man, Gwaid, but not because he was naturally cold. No, he was solitary because of the hatred that he harbored for the light and the near contempt that he held everybody else in.

_I wasn't born like this, dammit, it's not my fault. Ones of the light, hypocrites. They took everything from me. What truth do they offer? Fucking fables! I'm dying because of what they did to me._

Gwaid remembered the sad and far off history of his origins. He had been born a human child and had been about six or seven when his village was destroyed by a war between two forces. He had lived and had been taken as a prisoner by the victor, Pazort. This Pazort had saved his life because he wanted to keep the young boy as a servant. Pazort had given him the name Gwaid and his life had been more comfortable than it had ever been until he became fifteen. To be sure, he had quailed in fear of Master Pazort's rages, but as with all the servants he learned to circumvent his fear and enjoy his comforts. The Master was very open-handed with those who served him after all. Comfort only required walking softly when one of his towering rages erupted. It had been then that many of the light broke into the fortress with the intent of destroying his master. They hadn't succeeded at that task, but they had stolen everything from him. A sorcerer and a knight, Sir Jiles, had found him that day.

_A look of pure hatred suffused the sorcerer's face as the man cried out, "Demon in human form. Corrupted being. Have the form that the teachings of dark have bestowed upon you." There was a blinding flash of light magic and Gwaid had turned into what he was now, a Dragon Warrior. The man, Jiles had marred his cheek with a single scar. Gwaid still remembered the bastard's words._

"_I cannot find it in my heart to kill one as young as you, despite the fact that you shall grow into a most powerful dark being, but I shall leave a mark behind." _

Gwaid had reeled away in agony. How was he supposed to know that serving Pazort was wrong? The gods hadn't given him a choice then and they hadn't given him a choice when the sorcerer had found him, and nobody could imagine how he hated them, and those of the light for had happened. He knew then that he now would never feel the touch of a woman… never accept a reward. So he had flung himself into training with Pazort, so as to fight his personal war forever, and he nursed a bitter hatred in his heart for the gods, and light, for what they had torn away from him.

_Damn them for all eternity. I didn't have a choice, I never had a choice. Look at me now. Gwaid, the master of fire, the dragon warrior, the one who has next to no weaknesses. This is what I've become to finish my war. I will finish it, before my life is over._

How had it come to this? What had happened to the little boy he had once been? Even as a servant he had dreamed of a better world. Those dreams had long since collapsed. He had forgotten those fantasies when he threw himself into the rigorous training of a warrior. The training of the best. How many of his allies had he left dead over the years? How much blood had he spilt whilst searching for his vengeance? He remembered the day he had enacted bloody vengeance on Sir Jiles himself, but even that had been only a fleeting satisfaction that had given way to brooding.

And how had he come to serve with such as Bangar? He could see the reptile now, selfish, lazy, greedy, vain, stupid, sadistic… a liar and a craven as well. His thoughts had long ago turned black, but still, Bangar was too much. He still had pride.

_Gods, how have I come to this?_

---

Bangar had made his way to Mishalea's shrine where he was to report to her. He paused at the entrance momentarily at the sight of Lynx and Eiku. It had taken only the briefest of acquaintance with them to realize that they despised one another. Sauntering in casually, the reptile settled down for what he hoped would be a very entertaining spectacle.

Mishalea smiled that cold, deadly smile of hers as she murmured, "Bangar, excellent. You can make your report in just a moment."

Lynx, with a truly insufferable attitude of smugness, said, "It was my understanding that the final decision is made by the High Commander, Eiku, which in this case is me. So I say that you have to work harder at maintaining effective strategies to oppose the Shining Force."

Eiku replied in a strangled tone, which was clearly a failed effort to remain civil "Well _Commander_, I don't think that it is my skills that are at question here, no, it seems to me that I am lacking an adequate amount of money with which to pay the troops, soldiers with which to mount attacks, ambushes, patrols and guard our holdings, and supplies with which to make sure that the soldiers can be effective. You may have heard of these things, they're necessary components of a war."

"Do something to prove to me that you deserve further support. Even just to show that you can do anything at all. You're the one who's been complaining about the lack of secure borders. Secure them. Put up a patrol. Do anything rather than whine about it."

For once Eiku didn't open his mouth, but he seethed silently. Bangar allowed himself a small chuckle.

_That one would rather drink ssssoup that you had pisssssed in Commander than take your advice._

Aloud Eiku managed, "I've already taken that liberty sir. My second, Cellion has taken a standard sized perimeter command group to guard one of the more important fortresses on out border. You may recall Cellion? Slightly small fellow with a sword and a bow and arrow."

For one moment Bangar thought that Lynx might lose his control and cut Eiku down, but then the handsome Commander merely shrugged.

Eiku continued to meet Lynx's gaze and began, "As for effective strategies, I believe that by tonight I should be able to suggest-"

"No not tonight," said Lynx as he glanced over at Mishalea, "I expect that I shall be… quite occupied tonight."

The reptile thought that he detected the faintest trace of a derisive smirk twitching on Eiku's lips, but the officer left almost immediately.

Mishalea nodded to Lynx and he too left. She turned her burning gaze, which had been focused on the quarrel all this time, upon Bangar and asked, "Tell me, how did your technique of persuasion work?"

"Lady, sss, sss, sss. The interrogation method wasss a sssucesss. I managed to trick him into admitting that the Shining Force needsss alliesss to win thiss war." It was in fact, a slightly hollow question, but it was a start. If they could predict where Max would look for his allies then it would be that much easier to foil any attempts he might make. Besides, Bangar was fairly certain that he was the only person to get any information out of Max so far, so hollow or not, that made him invaluable in Mishalea's eyes.

"Excellent work, Bangar. Here, relax yourself somewhat. Have a good drink, a hot meal, some sleep and reward yourself. Then bring the water around here under your control."

Rather than replying to her generous reward he complained, "Lady, Sssir Gordon interfered with my interrogation."

"Gordon is an extremely useful man, if a little reckless. He is currently in control of the East wall guard with one of the undead leaders, Geppel. I shall deal with the insubordination."

"Thank you Lady. I now shall relax a little sss, sss, sss."

The reptile started to reach for a flagon of ale when Mishalea said in a sweet voice, "Oh, and Bangar?"

"Yesss, my Lady?"

"Get out now or I will kill you." He left.

---

Mishalea left the smirking reptile to his own devices and decided that now was the time to put her own plan into motion. She had allowed Bangar to interrogate Max because she had known that his plan was a good one, that it might well get one useful piece of information from the warrior, and she felt immensely gratified to have been right. All the same she had thought of one other thing that might sway Max into a favorable direction. So she made her way to the interrogation chamber. She opened and shut the door quietly. Max looked up, having regained consciousness.

"To what do I owe the honor of your presence Lady?" he asked sarcastically as she drew nearer and threw off her heavy cloak.

She smiled as she looked at him and said, "It's been quite a while, hasn't it Lord Max?" He opened his mouth, doubtless to make some mundane insult, but she forestalled it by taking the opportunity to give him a hard kiss. "Don't," she murmured against his mouth before slipping her tongue into it. For a better effect she leaned forward so that her lush breasts were crushed up against his chest and brought her thigh up to press against his. He clearly had no idea how to respond, much less experienced than Mishalea would have guessed. She doubted he had ever welcomed a woman in his embrace before.

_Mayhaps heroes just don't have time for sex. Or mayhaps… mayhaps he is having problems with choosing. I'll have to look into that._

Max roughly pushed her away. "Stay away from me, whore. I'll never be seduced by you, never," he growled.

Mishalea said in a breathy voice, "Watch yourself Max. I'm giving you a chance to be my consort." She started to move forward again, this time intending to open her legs since the less extreme methods had just failed, but Max slammed his open palm into her chest knocking her away.

He snarled, "No, watch yourself Mishalea. I will destroy you no matter the cost. A false seduction of yours won't win this war."

Feeling oddly embarrassed Mishalea's cheeks tinged with pink and she said in a low voice to Paezorta, who waited outside the door, "Take him back to cell."

Even as the stolid High Captain dragged him off Max shouted defiantly, "You can't win like this!"

---

The woman had watched with immense interest the entire confrontation in the room from a secret passage below. She paused for a moment and looked at Mishalea as the Dark Elf walked off stiffly, obviously provoked to a rage by Max's rejection. The woman smiled and turned away moving quickly. Kisaragi had to inform her mistress Dava of all that she had heard and seen.


	9. Chapter 9 Decisions

Chapter 9

Decisions

The camp of the Shining Force was awakened in the night by screams. Gort was up in a flash at the sound, ripping himself from the clinging sheets and grabbing his axe as he went. As Gort emerged, several figures ran past him. He easily recognized Hanzou, Musashi and Guntz. He also saw two other figures dashing forward. Straining his eyes he saw that one was Luke, a shrewd and brave warrior who had been born in Guardiana. There was another figure running now, he recognized this one as he nearly ran into him.

"Lowe," he shouted at the blue haired healer.

"Come on, I don't know what's happening but it's obviously something big." Considering that Lowe was right, Gort turned to follow him.

At that moment a huge shadow swept over the pair of them signifying Bleu, the last of the dragon kind. But then, Max always had had a penchant for winning odd friends. As Gort sped along he saw Khris, one of the other healers, dashing along side him and Hans also, who looked hot and breathless.

They ran and came to the source of the noise. It was Deanna. He was sweating, and looked gray and haggard, but he was sleeping. His screams echoed through the night. His face was twisted and his hair had flung itself back. One of his companions, an attractive centaur named Dawn was trying to cool him down. She had proven herself, smart, capable, and very kind. Her face was, as always, well-guarded. In fact, Gort suddenly realized, she was remarkably similar to Mae, though she didn't have the same coldness. No, rather she was careful. The mage, Natasha, stood a little to the side, her hands twitching.

Gort immediately felt a stab of pain as he remembered his past tragedy.

_That young lassie's put her trust in him. The way _she _put her trust in me. _

Lowe came forward and said, "He's having nightmares. There's nothing we can do to help him besides waking him up. Which would probably be a good idea."

Suddenly, with a cry, Deanna surged to his feet. His sword came singing out of its sheath into a confident and ready combat stance and he swung it quickly forward, jumped back before it hit anything, and twisted around for a quick return strike, accidentally knocking Kris to the ground with a gash in her shoulder.

Gort's eyebrow twitched. Deanna had just shown about as much skill with a blade as he had ever known Max to have.

"Argh! Oh, I uh… why are you all…"

Deanna looked a little uncomfortable, which, though understandable, seemed to be a massive understatement of the situation. He muttered, "I ah, didn't mean to wake any of you. Sorry. Shouldn't we do something about her injury?"

As always his voice was surprisingly deep. Gort didn't suppose that he'd ever truly get used to that.

Eric shouted, "As I said before! This is ridiculous! Why should we trust him for anything? He is-"

Natasha flung herself forward and slapped Eric in mid-tirade. Shock and blind rage mingled on the centaur's face. "How dare you strike me? I am-"

Dawn, "_Enough_." For just a moment she reminded Gort of Max. Quickly turning to Deanna she said in a soft voice, "Eric has a bit of a point. Regardless of how trustworthy you may or may not be there are some puzzling factors here. What is it that you haven't told us? You're remarkably well-informed and you give us no background. Except to say that you were previously a sergeant. Tell me, how would you react to a situation like that?"

"I…I," Deanna shook his head and looked out at everyone who had come running, his eyes pleading them to back of.

Gort said, "Laddie, yae haven't eaven told yaer own mates whit's goin' on. They deserve to know, ahs do we. We're shelterin' yae, d'you ken?"

Deanna made a small jerky movement as a gurgle rose in his throat. His dark hair fell into his face and he gestured vaguely with his sword. It was clear to all that even now, whatever was going on he wasn't willing to tell them his secret.

That was when Natasha lost her cool. There was a sudden explosion of flame running down her skin. Tao looked interested and Guntz took a protective step forward. Natasha's eyes burned with a flame fiercer than any she could magically conjure. Even Gort quailed under the power she had just represented. It was an unsettling sight, to see flames surrounding her, running down her flesh. Deanna took a step backward, afraid it seemed that she might immolate him.

Gort cautioned, "That might be a little extreme, lassie."

Her face reddened and the fire died down. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'm just… Deanna! Grow up would you?"

Deanna still seemed a little apprehensive. Then again, Gort still felt shaken. He silently promised himself never to irritate Natasha.

There was a long moment of silence that was finally broken by the small dwarf Jaha. "Well it's good enough for me. I don't doubt Deanna. He's helped us. Fought for us. Killed for us. A man can keep his secrets."

Eric snapped furiously, "That may be, but we deserve to know! How can we put our trust in someone who doesn't give us any of his?"

A centaur with a long melancholy face said, "I must stand with Eric. I like Deanna as well as any of us, but why should I get a knife in the ribs because he won't tell me what's going on?"

Dawn raised a brow. "I haven't seen any knives connected to this business. Have you, Graham?"

The other centaur blushed. Eric sneered, "And what do you know about it, woman? You're-"

Hanzou suddenly cut off the furious centaur. "It will do no good to demand answers. A deep grief gnaws at his heart. That is the reason for his silence."

Gort studied the young man before him. A deep grief? It was difficult to tell, but if nothing else Deanna guarded himself, aye guarded himself nearly as much as Mae did. Hanzou was probably correct though, his perception was always quite astute. Before Gort could issue an order though, Musashi objected to the statement. Gort sighed. Musashi was, after all, Musashi.

"Since, when have you become so good at judging others?" there was an intense dislike in the samurai's voice.

Hanzou's eyes bore into his opponent and he said flatly, "There is no point in another argument about this. I suggest that we settle it now."

Their hands went to their weapons when Lowe lept forward and slammed his staff onto the ground in between the ninja and the samurai.

"Enough," he bellowed, "Let's get some sleep."

Slowly, reluctantly, the two men nodded. The situation at least temporarily defused, everyone moved slowly, reluctantly really, back off to their sleeping areas.

- - -

Lord Gordon of Iom swept along the wall top of Mishalea's castle. He smiled slightly thinking of how all the others considered him an impetuous fool. He had worked hard to promote this image knowing that the others would never take him seriously until it was too late. Until he had seized the power that should rightfully be his. Gordon needed an ally though and after some careful thought had selected one of the undead leaders. Once the undead had been a man named Gepple. He still kept the name but it wasn't really his. He had been Wodol's weapon master until he was killed. Now he wore green armor and a distinctive mask waiting for his vengeance. The hardest part of course would be convincing Gepple. Gordon ignored the chill of the night air and strode powerfully forward.

"Gepple."

The huge undead creature turned and stared out of the slits in his helmet. His voice sounded like a piece of wet meat being dragged along the ground.

"What do you want self-styled Lord of Iom?"

"Gepple, I am concerned about the state of things."

"In what way?"

"The actual resurrection of Iom, also of the alliance to Mishalea."

"The Lady is no concern of ours, but continue pray, for I begin to think that I understand the undercurrent of your words."

"Our leaders have become weak, concerning themselves with such matters as the Shining Force."

Gepple suddenly chuckled. "What you suggest is treason."

"No, not at all. We would be serving Iom in this venture, not betraying him."

"Of course we would." His tone was deeply amused. "I am not sure though, that I would want to side with you Gordon. You are weak, even within your own ranks."

Gordon's eyes glinted. "And that is why we can only succeed. No one will sense the danger coming from one that they mock in their cups. And I am not so weak as all that. Nor are you. Together we could… Iom could have a new King. Warderer is not immortal."

"How intriguing."

"The Prince of Cypress and the Shining Force aren't what we need to make Iom strong and resurrect him. Just think how strong Iom would be if we sacrificed our leaders. He would be infused with both of their powers."

Gepple sucked his breath in sharply, "Ah, so that's what you're after. You need an ally though and you picked me. Wise, not a loyal wizard like Basso, not a weakling like Frabell, and not a fool like Edmond, but me. Hmm, I like it, but I confess it, I am an evil man. You can hardly hope to succeed though with Mishalea and her pet Vandal looking on. And never forget that Zeon is coming."

"Don't you see Gepple? It's because of these so-called allies of ours that we can succeed." As he spoke Gordon toyed with his dagger, a rich looking knife with a jeweled pommel and gold inlay. "Chaos is our best friend. All we have to do is give Warderer and Mishalea an excuse to fight to the bloody end and they will. The prisoners are at the crux of that. We kill them and Mishalea has to move."

Gepple asked very softly, "What of the Vandal?"

Gordon said quickly, "Vandals are not immortal either. She will be killed."

"Good, good. I'll be in touch."

As Gordon ran off down the parapet keeping low, Gepple sneered in triumph, "Fool."

Gordon almost laughed aloud. He had very good hearing.

---

Mae pushed her party and new found allies hard through the night. The negotiations, while necessary, were exhausting in a way her regular physical demands weren't and she hoped to get back to the camp of the Shining Force by dawn. She also didn't consider splitting the Shining Force into different groups was a good idea. Ruce and his group, along with the two women who had escaped Cypress still looked dazed. Well it was shocking. Mae thought that it was a very convenient time for Cypress to fall.

_Did Warderer have inside knowledge? This is such an opportune attack. Too much so. _Shemulled over the situation, leaving the group in silence, allowing their thoughts to run a full course. All thoughts of personal anguish had been momentarily driven from her mind as the weights of leading the Shining Force bore down on her.

She turned her gaze to study her new ally, Ruce. The dwarf was very quite, doubtlessly brooding upon the new that he had hear. Had he been close to the king? This dead warrior Stock? Prince Nicholas? She didn't know. For a moment Mae felt that she needed to reach out to Ruce, comfort him in some way.

_Look at what grief has done to me. I can't allow it to do the same to him. _

Her thoughts were jolted as she heard the rough voice of Gong say, "We might make it before dawn," quietly as though to only himself.

Blinking she asked, "What?"

"Jogurt milady. He said that we're about an hour away from the camp. If so we might be able to make it back before dawn." Mae opened her mouth to reply, and that was when there was a massive explosion of fire in the distance.

Sig jumped back and licked his lips in fear before shouting, "I hate fire magic, I just hate it. Please tell me that that is just a normal occurrence in your camp because that was also about the scariest thing I've ever seen."

Nobody responded to the monk's outburst. Mae said sharply, "Right, we're moving out now at full speed to see what just happened, everybody get a partner to watch your back."

Shade slipped up beside Anri and stage-whispered to her, "What do you say that we partner up, huh? You could really use a guy like me."

He started to flex his muscles. Anri's eyes hardened and she said quietly, "I don't think so Shade."

The archer gave a brief shrug and walked off to pair up with Yeesha instead. Domingo said softly, "I'll pair up with you if you don't mind."

"Well… I suppose so. We all need a partner after all."

"Shut up, we're here," hissed Mae. Carefully and as one body the group moved silently through the trees to come upon the camp. Mae was increasingly nervous. There were no sentries anywhere. Barely had the thought passed through her mind than a dark figure burst through the trees waving a long staff in complex pattern, rather swiftly too. She barely staved off the first blow as it was.

Mae snatched at her lance just as Ruce sighed and said, "Hello Luke."

"You know him?"

"Hello Ruce."

"You know each other?"

There was a moment of silence and then Wendy said, "Yeah, we all know each other, but Luke, what the hell are you doing here?"

Mae's head whipped around as she processed the available information.

Luke sighed in relief, "Oh, thank the gods that you're here. Maybe now we can explain things to Gort satisfactorily."

"Wait," said Mae, "Go back and explain everything. Now."

So the whole story came out. Claude, the birdman explained that Luke and several of his friends were just out of the Cypress Academy and were young recruits with no prior battle experience.

"The last time we saw them they were on guard duty except for Dawn and Natasha who were trying to help a young wounded man they had found near the cliffs."

Luke slapped himself on the forehead and said, "Of course, you don't know. Those two got him up all right and his name is Deanna, he's been leading us. Have you heard that Cypress was… was…" Claude nodded and Luke continued.

"You see some enemies broke into our area, but Deanna led us against them cool as you please. We beat them too. But then we couldn't go back, so Deanna told us we had to join the Shining Force if we wanted to fight Warderer. There've been some pretty big arguments about all tha-"

"Enough," said Mae, "You," she ordered, "Shall lead us to the Shining Force right now."

"Yes sir," exclaimed Luke throwing a smart salute. Luke took them to the camp in two minutes.

He threw back his head and howled, "Return of the Shining Force negotiating party, with Cypress allies."

This got some attention, Gort grumbling loudly about not getting enough sleep came out, and made sure everyone else did as well by giving them a sharp whack with his axe if they decided not to come.

"Och, now lassie, I suppose you've had a bit of luck now? This here idiot told you everything, you need to now, didn't he?"

"Yes Gort, it seems you've found some allies yourself but a short time ago a large explosion of flame was noted in this area. Report.

Arthur allowed himself a grin and he said, "Oh yes, that was Natasha over here," he said jerking his head in her direction. "She was having a little fit and was abou-"

Before he could continue Mae ordered, "Shut up. I'm not interested in your twisted version of events. Has there been any word from Max Gort?"

"Nay lassie. Ah think we must fear the worst."

"Damn," she muttered, "Haven't heard back from him since he started moving back up the Southern Shore."

Mayfair looked up sharply and said, "Did you say the Southern Shore?"

"Yes, why?"

"That's the direction Warderer took. He and all of his top men moved out after leaving a few other officers to finish off any resistance in Cypress. And if Max was moving down that way as well…

Tao croaked, "You mean that…"

Mayfair almost laughed and said, "Yes it's so obvious now, Warderer must have intercepted your leader. Although… it doesn't logically follow. How would he have known that he could find Max vulnerable and alone down there? There would be no reason for him to move his operations in that direction."

Mae felt sick. "Yes… there is."

Deanna said quietly, "Skull Castle, correct?"

"Yes. But this means…"

"An alliance. Iom and Mishalea have joined to together to fight us. Warderer was moving his operations to Skull Castle. And he must have captured Max by accident, because Max was trying to leave the area… furthermore, this means that Prince Nicholas is probably there as well. Warderer would want to keep such a precious prize extremely close by."

Mae froze and her gaze became unreadable to everyone. She wasn't strong enough. She knew that Max would never look at her as a man looks at a woman, but that didn't stop her from craving it. And now, taken by that bitch Mishalea…

Mae's gaze hardened and she said, "In this case I'll have to lead a rescue party in myself."

Tao bristled and cried, "Why you, why do you have to lead party? Is it because you want all the glory, or do think that you can win Max for yourself?"

Mae said quietly, "I'm the second-in-command around here and I make the decisions Tao. Besides," she lied, "Max is a brilliant leader. We can't afford to lose him at this point in the war. There's nothing personal about it."

Anri opened her mouth and said, "I," then apparently thought better of whatever it was and closed it again. Mae's attention was focused on Tao, but somewhere in the depths of her mind she noted that Domingo made a muffled noise.

Musashi said, "Let me come with you."

This set off a chain reaction of everyone wanting to come. Mae wanted to consult someone sensible like Gort, but he seemed to be staying out of it.

That was when Mae caught sight of Domingo and she called out, "What do you think Domingo?"

Mae was well aware that the jelly-fish would elect himself, but she had a healthy respect for him, even if she didn't approve of his overly lax ways. So she was understandably surprised by the answer she received.

Domingo said roughly, "I… I won't be going; I'll be in my tent." Domingo then whizzed off into his tent. Mae stood there floundering for a moment. What had that been about? He had almost seemed depressed… but Domingo? Depressed? Denying a chance for a mission? _Domingo_?

Mae came to a sudden decision, "The party will be composed of Guntz, Musashi, Luke, and Jogurt as our main strength. I want both Krhis and Lowe to accompany us too. There's no point in taking chances. Now then, Ruce and Deanna, choose two people from your parties to join ours and that will make up the rescue team."

After a few minutes of conferring Ruce announced that Claude and Wendy would come from his party.

"You'll need somebody who can fly, and you'll definitely need a magic fighter. I wish I could come myself… but that would be a tactical error."

Deanna selected Slade, his healer, and Graham his archer.

Mae eyed the party for a moment and then allowed herself a rare grin, "You three are in charge until we get back," she said to Ruce, Deanna, and Gort.

Suddenly she started a light jog toward the trees and called over her shoulder, "What are you waiting for?"


	10. Chapter 10 Break In

Chapter 10

Break In

Mae glanced back at her party approvingly. They had borne up well under the physical strain of the task and the emotional one too. Mae herself was just starting to realize the futility of an attack on the Dark Castle. It was the heart of Mishalea's domain and conquest. All her power was harbored in the ancient fortification. All her power… and her allies. There was Mishalea herself of course. Mae wanted to tremble at the thought of the smooth skin, the deceitful helplessness of her body, the mingled arrogance and scorn staring down from those pitiless, potent, verdant, eyes. Besides, how were they going to get into the Castle? That at any rate she now realized would be useful as to having Guntz around. He could probably break through the wall with his steamsuit.

_That won't be any good with the noise it'll make though. We may get in, but only by a few feet before we're all made into corpses. _

She consoled herself with the knowledge that she had a strong group at least. Despite Musashi's inhibiting code of honor he was a skilled warrior, and Luke was just as good, if not better. Guntz was solid brute strength, and Jogurt, though not precisely a warrior was quick-thinking. Although she didn't know Graham, Wendy or Claude, having an archer, magic and air support all at her disposal could only increase her chances of victory. And she had three healers with her which decreased the risks at least a little bit.

Although she would never admit it, Lowe was a comfort all in and of himself as well. The smiling, genial, healer was a source of strength to Mae as she herself was a source of strength for them. If were ever to consider breaking down and allowing herself a friend, she knew that it would be Lowe. She also knew what a futile dream that was.

_Focus on the task at hand._

The party continued forward on complete silence. They were made jumpy by the slightest change in the wind. The shifting patterns of light seemed to be creatures springing out to attack them, and yet they continued staunchly to rescue Prince Nick and Max.

---

Max had told Kane and Nick everything that had happened to him in the interrogation chambers.

"Do you know anything about any of those people?"

Nick laughed humorlessly, "I know of Sir Gordon at any rate. He is a mere peon of Warderer's, who styles himself a knight and a mighty fighter."

Kane's hoarse voice broke in, "You know Eiku and Lynx both of course. I assume that you're really asking about the reptile."

Max tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Exactly. That one doesn't fit. Ignoring the fact that we don't know anything about him, ultimately the question that he asked was hollow. Mishalea doesn't need my confirmation of the Force's vulnerability. She's too smart to waste a one-time trick on a question she could easily confirm otherwise."

Nick added, "And that's without considering another concern. So we know that there is this reptile, Bangar I believe you said?" Max nodded. "And we don't even know if he is a player or a pawn."

Max gave a shrug, "It doesn't really make much difference to a prisoner."

---

Guntz stared up at the huge crumbling ruin of a fortress and Mae noted that there was fear on his face. It shook her slightly. Guntz was bold to the point of obstinacy. If he was afraid…

Musashi broke the silence, and thankfully he sounded strong, not intimidated. "What do we do now?"

Mae took a deep breath, in attempt to steel herself and show no emotion. She knew that she probably succeeded. Her life had made her good at that.

She suggested, "Guntz will break through the wall and let us in?"

Wendy objected saying, "Wouldn't that alert the castle to our presence?"

The short, stubby healer, Slade said, "She has a point you know." Mae glanced sharply at the priest. He had seemed to fit the private description Gort had labeled him as before she left; pompous and after a brief acquaintance she had accepted that. It was possible that she had misjudged the Cyprian though. She made a mental note to keep an eye on him in the future.

Mae glared, "I'm open to suggestions."

Lowe said quietly, "This isn't about us you know. It's about the future, and Max is the future, just as Prince Nick is Cypress's future, and more than that Max is my friend so we've got to try whatever we can."

Claude protested, "If we're rotting carcasses we won't do anyone much good, so we have to find another way in."

Mae fixed him with her eye and said coldly, "Well if you don't want to help us the camp is over in that direction, you can just fly back."

Jogurt squeaked nervously, "I suppose I can dig…"

They all turned and stared at the small hamster.

The archer, Graham grinned, "We're all a bunch of idiots. This is stealthy enough, come on now start digging, even Mishalea wouldn't be able to defend against this."

Tempers relaxed, and Jogurt disappeared beneath a shower of earth. Although the party had calmed down for the moment Mae could see that their tempers were starting to flare again without anything to do that could take their mind off the task.

_Hurry Jogurt. For Max's sake. _

The better part of an hour later Jogurt's head popped up and he squeaked, "Tunnel prepared sir."

Mae said, "Stand back, I'll go in first."

Khris said, "No we can't afford to lose you, I'll go in." Without waiting for confirmation, the gangly healer, lept into the tunnel. Mae followed her, eyes hard. One by one the rest of the party dropped in.

Mae turned and said, "Now there's to be as little talking and noise as possible. I'll lead us, and you must do whatever I tell you in order to properly manage this. You know to use deadly force if necessary."

The small group moved through the tunnel silently, noting Jogurt's fine work, how successful he had been in creating a smooth tunnel that they could move through with minimal noise. Time and space became meaningless in this seemingly endless void of darkness, until finally there was a hint of light. Jogurt hadn't been so rash as to open a hole inside the castle, but he had found some weakened stone and had broken it a bit. They came to the other end that Jogurt had dug and Mae gently thrust her lance in an upward motion, to break open the stone.

Having done so, she hoisted herself out and gazed around. Jogurt had led them to some kind of room, and Mae was noting that even such a room that was obviously not much used was very fine. Hearing a sound behind her, she quickly spun around only to see, Slade, awkwardly pulling himself out.

Mae waited a few more minutes and finally saw Jogurt getting out. The hamster reached up to grab the last pawhold, when he slipped and fell back into the tunnel. Graham sniggered as the sight. Jogurt climbed back up and managed to stay up this time.

---

Gepple sat with Mishalea; sipping the wine he had been offered despite the fact that he was undead. After some thought he had come to Mishalea and told her everything Gordon had told him. Mishalea, needless to say was very interested in what Gepple had to say. After some careful thought she instructed her newfound spy exactly.

"You are to go along with Gordon's plans up to a point. By all means allow him to slaughter the prisoners. Then come to me. I shall use this as a weapon against Warderer himself, and then my sect of darkness will be the strongest. You may go Gepple."

Mishalea watched him scurrying away and chuckled to herself. Gepple was not a stupid man; he had judged that Gordon was too weak to risk allying himself with, but he had misjudged Mishalea. By all means she would use Gepple as he would be a convenient spy. He wouldn't betray her, not at first anyway, and he wouldn't actually lie to her. He would scheme and try to work around her, but she had been dealing with types like Gepple for a long time.

All he had really done was to let Mishalea know that Gordon was worth allying herself with. Though a little impetuous he was also bold and intelligent, also clearly skilled at subterfuge, all very useful traits. One just had to know how to channel them. Indeed, Mishalea almost felt a little sorry for Gepple as she thought of how he had just backfired.

Mishalea smiled and laughed aloud as she enjoyed the deception, sneering, "Fool."

---

Sir Gordon swept along a hallway, towards the prison cell. He had decided to exterminate the prisoners right away. How foolish did Gepple think he really was? Gordon knew that if he proceeded his plans fast enough Gepple would be forced to go along with him. Gordon's huge creepy eyes crept along the corridor to make sure he wasn't being observed. Quickly, he continued on.

_You will regret taking me lightly Gepple. _

---

Mae led the party down a hallway. There had been an argument. Wendy had suggested that they split up to get the job done faster, but Mae thought they should stay together, so that they would be strong enough to take on anyone who they might stumble across. Mae was wondering though.

_It seems almost empty, but that's absurd, especially on the exact night that we chose to break in. There haven't been any soldiers anywhere that I can see. _

Mae silently jerked her head to the left as they came to a fork on the hall, when you were just randomly looking about, one way was as good as another. Lowe cautiously tried a door. He shook his head. Mae turned and caught sight of Musashi waving his katana to get her attention. He was by a big wooden door with a silver handle. The samurai was tall and could see through the bars at the top. Mae could only just reach the grating, but she saw Max.

A sudden relief swept through her, Max. Max was the dream that could nourish her, a protection that swept her off her feet, even if he would never look at her as a woman.

She blinked suddenly at the thought and her eyes were unusually bright. She turned quickly to the side, to hide the tears in her eyes. She gestured over to the rest of the force, signaling for them to come and see what held her attention.

"Guntz," hissed Mae softly. The giant armadillo in the steamsuit nodded to her. He understood what was being asked of him. The rest of the group backed out of the way. The wheels on the bottom of the huge iron suit began to turn, and he slammed forward. With a huge bang he smashed into the door and it was ripped off its hinges.

The prisoner's heads turned, to see what smirking officer had come for torture or for death.

Max gasped, and then whispered weakly, "Guntz?"

Guntz nodded and called softly behind him, "Oi, someone in here, to loose their chains."

Wendy came in, Nick looked up. Now it was the Prince's turn to gasp in surprise.

Wendy carefully cast a puny blaze. It was hot enough to melt the iron chains.

Max asked, "How many are you, what should we do?"

Guntz said, "Come on out here and we'll get you out of this dump."

Max, Nick and Kane quickly filed out followed by Guntz and Wendy.

Mae looked up and there was Max, looking half dead with the horrific marks of the torture chamber. For an instant Mae's hardened demeanor melted and she looked at Max, her eyes filled with tenderness and helpless longing. For just a moment she allowed herself to let down her armor, and then she heard a low chuckle. It was Kane, and he glanced at Max and then back at Mae, who had switched back to her cold, frozen self.

"Lord Kane," she said without enthusiasm. She had met him once before and couldn't truly say that she liked or trusted him, but he was Max's brother so she treated him with polite disinterest.

Kane said, "Ah, Mae, I can see that you're disappointed not to have gotten rid of me or my brother." There was a hint of a smile on his face.

Max rushed forward and said, "Mae, Jogurt… Lowe!" He rushed forward to grasp his best friend in a bear-hug.

Jogurt squeaked excitedly, "I dug a tunnel into here, I got us in."

Lowe had tears in his eyes and then he grinned wickedly, "Ah Max, Max, Max. You shouldn't do these crazy things just to impress Tao, Mae and Anri. We all know that's why you do these things, after that one drinking contest where you…"

"Shut up," said Max and Mae in unison.

Nick said snidely, "Max it's time we go; it's dangerous to loiter in Mishalea's hallway." His cool gaze seemed to imply that he wanted to get away from them as well.

---

Gordon had hurried down the hallway when he heard the sound of the door being smashed off its hinges. He had been watching the whole thing with his huge creepy eyes and had decided to take action.

_After all, I'm more than a match for these fools, even if there are more of them than there is of me. Ah, Gepple, who's the fool now? _

He knew that the element of surprise would be vital, and he would make his move now.

---

Gordon sprang from the shadows, twirling his staff and shouted, "FREEZE." An icy blast of power ripped out of the channeled energy and targeted Jogurt. The hamster froze as though trapped in a block of ice and Gordon swung out with his staff, connecting it with the football helmet and hit hard. Jogurt was smashed down through the hallway and a staircase.

"JOGURRRRRRRT!!" howled Max, but before anything could be done, Gordon twisted and ripped his staff down in a vicious killing blow. There was a sickening crunch and Khris crumpled to the ground.

Musashi lept forward screaming, "I am prepared to die today, are you?"

Before Gordon could react, the samurai slammed his katana hilt first onto the ground, calling on the magical energy within the blade. A fierce, white-blue wave of energy swept up and ripped through Gordon. He was drowning in it, could feel it wreaking havoc on his body. He would die, it knew how to kill, could almost think. That was when it swept along past him, harmless after the expenditure of power.

With a low gasp and a snarl of rage Gordon picked himself up and lunged forward, swinging his staff hard. Musashi quickly deflected it and curled himself up into a tight roll and then lashed out. Gordon leapt backwards. Musashi exploded back up to his feet and he made an expert thrust. Gordon flung himself to the side, but the samurai quickly adjusted his blade. It ripped Gordon's cloak and stabbed into his shoulder. Hissing in pain, Gordon struck as hard as he could and managed to lay the solid blow onto Musashi. His staff banged off the armor the samurai was wearing, but Musashi was undeniably slower as he attacked again.

The samurai lashed out as hard as he could and Gordon's staff met his katana. For a moment they were straining against each other pressing savagely with all of their weight and strength. Gordon never saw the fist swinging up until it was too late. Musashi punched Gordon hard, in his eye.

Tears sprang into those huge eyes unbidden. It was his weak spot. With an animal yell of rage he began attacking without thinking, every drill he had ever learned but Musashi quickly flipped up into the air and fell down at Gordon. Gordon drew in a sharp breath as blood trickled down his chin from a slight facial wound. As Musashi fell to the ground Gordon swung out and struck the samurai's legs making him fall hard.

Immediately Gordon was on him, using the rod to beat the samurai. Musashi had curled up into a small ball on floor yelping in pain as he was struck. Taking a chance Musashi kicked forward. Gordon stumbled and Musashi was back on his feet.

Gordon roared, "FREEZE!!" and swung his staff hard. The freeze spell and the staff hit the samurai at the same time in the same place. Musashi buckled and weakly swung his katana at Gordon's legs. Gordon easily moved his staff to counter it.

Musashi suddenly swung up hard and stabbed his blade straight into Lord Gordon's chest, his first feint having lowered his enemy's guard.

Gordon's huge eyes opened very wide as he gasped, "I… there would have been… Gep… Gep…"

With a low moan Gordon collapsed and all his eyes dulled over, glazed in death.

Musashi ripped his blade out of his opponent's chest and snarled, "If you would make us pay in tears you had best be prepared to pay with blood."

Lowe roughly wiped his eyes and said, "Khris is dead, I… I tried to heal her but she… she was already…"

"Khris," said Max his voice full of sorrow and bitter self-loathing.

"Max…" said Mae helplessly, "You couldn't have helped it…"

Max turned and cried, "She died because she came to try and rescue us, she died because of me."

"Well well, what have we here?"

Max half spun about in alarm as Paezorta chuckled, "That's right Max it's me, your good old healer."

Kane came forward his eyes blazing and he shouted, "Hurry up all of you; I'll hold him off, run!"

Max shouted, "No, Kane."

He was swept away though as the rest ran and Nick said urgently, "Max, Kane wanted you to live, don't squander his gamble."

For a moment Max was frozen with silent agony and then he nodded and led the group. He risked one backwards glance and saw both figures tangled on the floor. They were running now, hunted prey. The force had lost its last shred of rational thought, not noticing where they were running to, just running. A costly mistake.

Breathing raggedly, Max dodged ahead into a room. The group followed. They were in a heavy place, yet immense, encroaching yet airy, lava churning all around beneath the stone and dirt of shrine from which they stood.

"Do you like my kingdom?" was the mocking response they were met with.

Mishalea.

Standing there. Max's breath caught in his throat as he saw Rilix, float out on her chair. Even this couldn't hold the warrior's attention. His eyes were riveted to the two swords at Mishalea's feet.

One was his own weapon. It gently pulsed green. It was called the Chaos Breaker, the weapon he needed to destroy Mishalea. The other blade looked ordinary but was far from it. This was the weapon of Prince Nick, the Sword of Hajya. It was the only weapon known to damage the dark god Iom.

A smile curled along the corners of Mishalea's lush lips, "Why, do like my swords? I could give them to you, but why do such warriors as you honor poor humble little me?"

Nick said authoritatively, "You'll give us those swords or we will take them from you."

Mishalea burst out laughing and she said, "You can't take them. How do you think you'll compel me to turn them over when you could barely defeat Gordon? He was lowly."

"Enough banter we'll die if fate decrees but not without killing both of you first." This statement had come from Mae.

Mishalea glanced at Rilix as she spoke, "I tire of such games. Come friend let us give a demonstration of our true power."

The Vandal nodded and immediately called an orb of energy into the palms of her hand.

"Haaaaaaa, to the death." This cry issued from Kane's throat as he lept through the doorway and into the air. Before Rilix could attack, Kane flung himself upon her and the energy slammed into Rilix. The Vandal slumped over unconscious.

Kane snatched at the swords as Mishalea's hands came up into the air, to trace the mark of a spell. Kane turned and flung the blades at Max.

The warrior stooped and grabbed the two swords as his brother said, "Seek out my son and live for me."

Mishalea having traced her spell screamed, "BOLT, BOLT, BOLT, BOLT!"

Four bolts of lightning sprang up and struck Kane. The man sagged to the floor, but Max had seen the chance his brother had given him.

For just a few moments Mishalea's other spell, the one that had prevented his lifted.

Max quickly traced a simple mark in the air and roared before he could be stopped, "EGRESS!"


	11. Chapter 11 Destiny's Bane

Chapter 11

Destiny's Bane

It was a peaceful glade of great beauty early in the morning. That is to say, it was until there was a sudden explosion of blinding light. A lot of the grass torn up, scorched rocks, destroyed flowers, all in all the glade still looked to be in considerably better shape than the people who had just appeared in it.

Max stood tottering on his feet for a moment and then he collapsed on the ground. Lowe rushed over and grabbed his friend's head. Lifting it out of the earth, Lowe peered at it intensely. A sigh of relief came from the keen-eyed healer as he noted signs of life in Max's face.

The small group was notably silent, as though waiting for something or someone to validate speech. It was Max who finally broke the long silence.

"Mishalea." His voice was bitter.

Sounding utterly weary he croaked, "This is not over. I will kill you."

Musashi came over and said, "Max at least we're all still alive…"

Max said in a low voice, "You're wrong Musashi. Krhis… Jogurt and my own brother! All dead."

Nick pointed out, "We never saw Jogurt die. Besides Lord Max, casualties are one of the prices of war. They might be cruel, but they're necessary. If anything you should be pleased that they were willing to die for your cause."

Max snapped, "Oh, you're actually suggesting that Jogurt survived a high level freeze spell, and being smashed over the head, and flying off to crash into who knows what?"

Lowe was startled; not so much by Max's guilt or anger over relinquishing that guilt, but more so by the tone of his voice. The healer had never, ever heard his friend sound that close to active dislike before. Except for Mishalea anyway.

The prince made a dismissive, yet polished gesture. "I'm merely reasoning that there is a margin of error, Lord Max. To say that it is certain that your friend was killed… well it's _not_ certain. Just extremely likely."

Lowe blinked. Prince Nicholas had to be the most urbane person he had ever met. He fairly radiated a certain polished detachment.

Max hissed, "Margin of error? There is no bloody margin of error! How sure do you have to be? That would have killed anyone! Anyone! Just as surely as that bloody bastard killed Khris. And that evil bitch killed Kane!"

Nick turned away muttering disgustedly, "Now you're just being pathetic."

Mae glanced over at Nick and then stared at Max. Lowe sighed. Most people didn't really understand Mae. To be sure, she was cold, but it wasn't because she wanted to be cold. If anything it had been because she felt too much that she had turned out like this. Although, to be fair, most about anyone would revert to ice if their father had been murdered in front of them.

Besides, Lowe was not a stupid man. It was obvious enough to him that Mae cared for Max. That was what kept her going. She drew strength from Max the same way that most of the others drew strength from her brittle, icy reserves. Doubtless she was morbidly reflecting on her own experiences. As usual she said nothing.

Nick in the meantime had gone over to Claude and Wendy. His greetings were warm enough, but all the same Lowe noted that the Crown Prince extended his hand to be kissed.

His tone was held some genuine friendliness as he said, "It is such a pleasure to see you again Lady Wendy, Sir Claude. By what providence do you come to be with the Shining Force?"

Claude replied, "Your Highness may not recall, but we were both assigned to the party sent to negotiate with Lord Max."

Nick nodded, "Of course. And so you are here now. Do you know of… of the circumstances that led to my capture?"

Wendy paused for a long moment before answering. "Yes. We were… that is to say that we had stated our terms, when our meeting was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Mayfair and Lady Yeesha. Both of them had managed to escape from the Castle and they informed us of the coup."

Nick leaned forward, his eyes glinting with interest. "The Lady Mayfair escaped? Very good. As my own exit from the castle was somewhat hastened I was not in the best of positions to draw conclusions. It would seem that the coup was not as successful as it might have appeared."

Claude nodded. "That is so my lord. The Lady Mayfair knew for a certainty that various members of the court had also managed to evade capture or death and that a Resistance has already been formed."

Nick frowned. "That strikes me as more than passing queer. The coup was pulled off with such brilliance… Obviously Uglu had knowledge. Knowledge of our habits, of where people were at various times. I was there. I saw that it had been planned down to the smallest of details to suit this knowledge, and he had plenty of men in place. The fact that some several managed escape anyway seems unbelievably clumsy, _and_ after Uglu made it clear that his plan was not clumsy."

Lowe nodded in abrupt understanding. He hadn't been certain where the prince had been going with his train of thought, but the point clicked into place. Uglu had inside knowledge; Uglu had been placed in the castle. But, by virtue of how deftly he seemed to have gathered information, information that he shouldn't have been able to obtain given how highly classified it was, that suggested a catspaw.

The healer frowned slowly. As he had listened to Prince Nick's tale he had assumed that Warderer had cleverly managed to place Uglu in Cypress Castle, but the more he thought about it the more unlikely that seemed. If someone other than Warderer had done such a thing, though, they would have to be someone with access to the castle. A traitor.

Someone with enough trust amongst the high lords to have easily supplied Uglu with the information. Lowe asked, "Whom did Uglu serve?"

His eyes met Nick and in that moment Lowe clearly saw that his own thoughts mirrored Nick's, and that Nick knew that Lowe knew as well. The prince said, "Unfortunately, the truth to that is buried. Until the coup itself I had not heard of an Uglu, so I couldn't be certain to whom he owed his allegiance."

"Damn," muttered Lowe.

Nick continued, "It would, perhaps, be possible to deduce whom he served by virtue of the scheme itself. I know quite a bit of those who it pleases Warderer to name as generals. The scheme may well have left traces of the sort of thinking that was behind it."

For the first time Mae broke in. "This is all very good my lord, but it is a subject best reserved for the council to discuss at greater length. We still have ground to traverse before a pursuit by the enemy would become impractical."

The prince gazed at her coolly and then asked, "Mae, I believe? The daughter of Lord Commander Varios?"

She nodded reluctantly. Nick bowed to her ever so slightly before re-focusing his attention on Claude and Wendy. "The Lady Mae is correct. It would not be wise to linger here; our tales can await a moment when our safety is more certain."

Wendy nodded. "As your say, you're Highness. If, I might perhaps, be permitted to continue briefly…" she paused and Nick waved a hand carelessly. She said, "The Lady Mayfair saw fit to inform me that it should please her to speak to you upon your arrival Your Highness."

Lowe's gaze sharpened with interest at Nick's reaction. He made a reply, some meaningless courtesy most like, but as he did so, he flexed his jaw. The healer's eyes shone bright with amusement.

_Oh really my lord? I wouldn't have taken you for the romantic type. _

Lowe asked casually, "I know little of the political situation of Cypress my lady. Is the Lady Mayfair a political power in the land? Or perhaps her family?"

Wendy replied, though with a trace of puzzlement in her tone, "I would not say so, sir. May I enquire as to why you would wish to know?"

He smiled disarmingly at her. "Oh, no reason."

Nick paused for a moment and looked very hard at Lowe. Then the prince rose to his feet and said brusquely, "All such matters may wait. Mishalea may not. It would be best if we move from here no-"

"Hold." Nick's pale blue eyes flicked over at Max, a trace of irritation in them. Lowe frowned.

_And why might that be? _

All that the prince said, however, was, "My lord?"

Max's tone was hard as he replied, "You are wise to counsel caution, Your Highness, but in our current state moving on would be a mistake. We are still exhausted from our most recent endeavors. If we spend our entire strength running, what happens if we do encounter a pursuit party? We'll hold here for an hour."

Nick nodded reluctantly. "As you say my lord. Perhaps it would be best to take some brief respite."

Max gestured at Slade and Graham. "I noted that you did not include these two in your greetings. They are not of the Force, however…"

Nick glanced at them in surprise and said, "They look like local Cyprians."

Slade flushed rather uneasily and quickly gave a slightly mumbled explanation. Nick looked pleasantly surprised. "Natasha and her group escaped? Better and better."

Mae came forward and asked rather pointedly, "If we're not going to leave right away, then it would at least be best to stay in this area. All of us."

Max nodded. "True enough. As I said. On the hour."

---

Ull, the leader of the spirit zombies glided effortlessly along. He could feel the aura of life all around him, but most of all his attention was focused on the burning sense of life not too far ahead. The life of those whom Mistress Dava wished dead. The life that he would feast upon. He croaked, "Now we have found them. Let them fall beneath our power. And then we shall feed."

---

The group was still resting at the glade.

Slade walked around muttering under his breath, "'Looks like Cypirians,' ha, who does that snotty nosed aristocrat think he is?"

"Snotty nosed aristocrat?"

Slade looked up and saw Guntz looking at him with an expression of sheer disgust on his face. The armadillo said sternly, "His Highness has been nothing but of aid to us. And he is your liege. How can you speak of him so?"

Slade opened his mouth and then shut it. Guntz nodded brusquely at him before moving a little ways away.

Lowe walked slowly around the glade. He needed time to think. He was sorry for Khris of course, but he hadn't really known her. He was mainly thinking of Jogurt.

Jogurt, one of life's constants… gone? No, it seemed too impossible. So Lowe sought a little privacy to grieve.

Spotting a small grassy knoll, he dropped to his knees. It would be here he released a stream of tears, here, before joining the others. Although, at least he could say with a fair amount of certainty that Max was none the worse for his brief bout of self-pity. That was the only small comfort Lowe had though. Jogurt…

That was when he heard the faint rustling. The healer sighed and glanced up and started to say, "Mae, leave me alo-"

A strange zombie charged out at him smashing into him. He noticed as he was struck that while the flesh seemed solid enough there was something cold, frozen, and surreal about the whole thing.

He almost immediately frosted over and fell, immobilized. The zombie eagerly ran over to him, so as to absorb the life from his victim, no doubt, when a much larger zombie came and knocked him to the ground.

"Not here," hissed Ull, "We must finish the others before we feast on life."

"Yes."

Ull turned and said, "Follow me my servants and finish all before us. This way."

Lowe struggled fiercely to move, but it was no good.

_Damn them! Who are they? Mishalea's? I didn't think she had anything like this! Oh damn them, I can't move! _

---

Max roughly wiped his eyes, squared his shoulders and turned to face the rest of the group knowing that they should be near by.

"Right, we'll be moving out now and… oh bother, Mae where's Lowe?"

The centaur frowned and said, "I don't know, dammit. I told everyone to stay within eyesight."

"Well he can't have gone far. Bloody fool." Even as he said it Max was aware that it was unfair. He wasn't feeling the strength for fairness however.

"Arhgggg, stop them its zombies."

This cry had been issued by Graham who immediately got out his bow and strung it with a war bolt. He fired at the closest one. The bolt passed through its chest, knocking it back a few paces before it continued forward on its intent and deadly march.

The group snatched up their weapons and attacked.

Max charged forward whipping the Chaos Breaker in a complex pattern and then stabbed one of the zombies through the head. The creature turned and gripped Max's side, leaving bloody furrows there. Snarling with pain Max thrust his blade into the zombie's chest… where it got stuck.

Max weakly tried to fend off the next attack, when a lance sprouted out of the zombie's chest just above the Chaos Breaker. The creature turned, not realizing that this motion would tear up its chest even more, and fell awkwardly to the ground.

Mae grabbed Max by the hand helping him to his feet. The zombie also staggered to its feet. Max hissed, "Will nothing kill these things?"

So saying the leader of the Shining Force flung himself forward swinging his sword in a vicious downward arc. The blow clove the zombie in two. The ripped body fell to ground, but a grey apparition rose from the remains and flew through the air until it suddenly vanished. The air where it had vanished rippled slightly.

Max understanding the meaning of this roared in alarm, "They're spirit zombies!" He had heard of such things once, but had always assumed that the Spiriters were dead and gone.

He regretted this outburst as he saw the mage Wendy freeze for a moment of alarm. The zombie she had been holding at bay struck her, ripping through her flesh. Blood oozed from the wound.

Two more zombies came and joined their comrade, eager to finish her.

Wendy sucked in her breath and shrieked, "Blaze!"

Immediately a fire came into life rising to the zombies thighs. The creatures turned in fear to run, because the undead have always been most vulnerable to fire and have hated it.

They were too late. Fireballs rained on them from the sky knocking them down into the fire at their thighs. Unable to get away from the flames they were destroyed. Their spirits plunged back into the spirit realm.

Now that Max had a chance to survey the fight more clearly he was relieved. There were only about ten more fighting zombies, and one that was bigger than the rest holding itself in the rear of the charge.

So he charged forward and cleanly cut off the head of one of remaining enemies wiping it out completely.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Guntz charge into a zombie, causing bits of flesh to fly everywhere.

Two zombies charged over into Guntz smashing his steamsuit into him, so that he couldn't breathe. Defeated the half armadillo fell to the ground.

Slade and Claude were already sprawled out. Beaten.

Musashi's face was disfigured in a vicious snarl as his slim blade sprouted from a zombie's chest.

Graham had fired bolts into a zombie's arms and legs so that it couldn't move. Then he rushed over and smashed it up with his hooves.

Max and Mae charged forward and took out another zombie slashing it open front and back.

The remaining five zombies gathered together now and fought more cautiously. It was a costly mistake.

Wendy ran towards them, having gathered all her remaining magical strength and cast the blaze spell upon all five. Four fell to the ground utterly destroyed by her power, but the fifth staggered forward to kill her.

Wendy herself fell, the loss of blood and the strength needed to cast her spells collapsing her.

Max, Nick, Musashi, Graham, and Mae all ran forward to save her. They weren't fast enough.

The zombie was about to bend down and finish her when a staff slammed on its head making a sickening crunch and the bones in its neck were broken.

Behind the falling zombie stood Lowe. A smile on his lips.

That was when Ull came forward. He had not been in the fight.

Ull spoke one word

"No."

There was power in that word though and it took hold of the group, squeezing cruelly at them and forcing them into a realm with no warmth, only the cold, pain and never ending darkness.

Nick's face was drawn and haggard as he threw himself forward at Ull and plunged the Sword of Hajya through the captain of the spirit zombies.

The pain abruptly stopped. Max opened his eyes and saw the zombie writhing desperately trying to pull away.

Then something drew his searching gaze away from the flesh and he saw the core of his enemy, its spirit.

He saw the sword as a beam of intense focused light that had transfixed the spirit, which was desperately trying to pull away from the destructive power of the sword.

As if in a dream Max walked forward and thrust the Chaos Breaker into the spirit so that the point of his blade touched the point of Nick's blade forming a single vortex of energy.

The rest of the group that was on their feet watched in amazement as a whirlpool, intensely light blue opened before their eyes. They were viewing an entry into the spirit realm, only this was in the visible spectrum.

They saw the zombie twist then shriek in a panic, "NO, Mistress help me, NOOOO!"

---

Hundreds of miles away on the island of Cypress Dava came awake. The Spiriter had been in deep slumber, but then she had felt something stir, something pushing against her will attempting to break her control and re-enter the spirit realm.

The old woman calmly opened the spirit realm and saw many weak zombie spirits that had been under her control drifting around.

From the ambush party no doubt.

Dava's narrow, slitted eyes suddenly opened very wide as she saw exactly what was battling her will for the dominance of a spirit.

It was Ull. Two young men had plunged their swords into his core and the magic in these blades clearly had enough power to try and send Ull back.

She instantly recognized one of the men as being the aristocrat, Prince Nick. The other man she guessed to be Max the leader of the Shining Force. How typical.

A rage swept through her. They were trying to take her power, they were violating it! They could not take Ull from her. They didn't have the power of a Spiriter. They didn't know of her mastery. Upstarts, cheaters! Using magical blades to interfere in something they didn't understand. Disgusting.

Furiously she concentrated and for several moments it felt as though Ull was coming back under her control.

That was when she felt a sudden build up of power and an orb of energy swept through the spirit realm coming straight at her.

It disintegrated every spirit it touched suddenly smashing through her portal and striking her directly in the chest.

She flew backward and her senses of were overwhelmed by power.

Struggling back upright she gasped to see Ull floating in the spirit realm, bound there for eternity now.

The portal she had opened closed, no doubt doe to the power of what had struck her and bound Ull.

Dava threw back her head and screamed wrathfully full of rage.

---

As if a spell was broken Max and Nick suddenly stumbled back from the zombie that had frozen suspended in mid air for a few moments.

They were gasping in shock and felt completely exhausted.

Lowe was already going around healing everybody.

Graham swallowed hard and asked, "Uh… wh-what did you guys just do I… I mean w-was it…?"

Max said, "I don't know, I… I just remember this voice in my head. It… it said 'There is a hole in your mind."'

Nick added, "I also heard a voice but this one said something along about 'Destiny's bane."'

Mae sighed, "Never minding all of that we'll never make it back to camp today not in this state. I suppose we should rest here for the remainder of the day and move out again at night."

She paused and turned, "That is of everything is all right with you, sir?"

Max laughed wearily, "You know that you don't need my approval for that Mae. It's a good plan and will suit us well."

Mae turned away just as Nick was saying rather elegantly, "You know Lord Max, you'd do well to learn some poise."

"How very true Prince, how very true."


	12. Chapter 12 Back to the Old Drawing Board

Chapter 12

Back to the Old Drawing Board

"This is not the great power we were promised!" The shout echoed around the shrine in which, Mishalea once again had gathered her allies and their officers.

Warderer had already made a mess of things by challenging her. Now he seemed a vastly different creature, with none of his little games. All smirking and sly silky courtesy was forgotten. Now he was blazing with a vengeful fury. It was intensely gratifying to see that she could still evoke such rage in him. Mishalea still remembered a time, not so long ago, when he had raged just as helplessly.

_He should thank me. Hating me gave him everything that he is. _

Warderer had lost his famous cool, speaking hotly; Mishalea on the other hand had a perfect coolness, which few could match. It was what had kept her in power, a cold clear intelligence that ruled her passions and guided her appetite, so that she was not nearly as weak as an emotional madman like Warderer.

She sighed and explained, "It was a trap to destroy the Shining Force, as I've already said." There was, after all, no point in telling the whole truth. Although, Warderer doubtless expected her to lie.

"Well apparently, your planning leaves something to be desired."

"We killed Kane," she reminded him.

"Oh yes," he said sarcastically, "We won a wonderful victory, and lost my officer in the bargain."

"Gordon is only dead now because you could not control him." She took a moment to savor the look of blind rage on his face and then continued, pointedly, "If he hadn't interfered then the plan would have gone smoothly enough. And why is it my lord that he had the leisure to dream up such schemes in the first place? Why were you, his master, not providing him with enough discipline, or fear, that he felt he could plot for power with impunity?" In truth, the matter of Gordon was bitter to her. She had believed he would be worth sounding out, and then he had died.

_I overestimated him. _

She added abruptly, "Only because you are weak my lord."

Warderer's face drained of all its color.

"You can't blame that on me you bitch," he raged at her.

Lynx moved forward unsheathing his sword as he did so. The handsome man's face was stiff with anger, but his eyes remained cool, restrained.

"Hold your tongue," he said coldly.

Warderer shrieked, "Who are you to be telling me what to do? Me, I am the mighty King of Iom, I am Warderer, I am the disciple of Iom!"

_Now this is amusing. I would have suggested an alliance years ago if I had known that the fool would provide so much entertainment._

His eyes burned with loose feral rage and his face, with that strange waxy skin, was disfigured in a vicious snarl.

Warderer screamed, "You shall die for this insult human creature!"

The disciple drew himself up, and there was a crackle of power about him. A small red mark on the center of his forehead had the brilliance of a great jewel. Little flickers of light started coming from it, as though beams of intense focused energy.

_This has gone on long enough. To kill would be sweet… but counter-productive. Max. The Shining Force. Focus on the task at hand. _

Mishalea snapped, "You're overstepping your bounds. Control yourself or I will do it for you."

"I have the power; you can't take it away from me I shall-"

"If that were the case," she coldly observed, "Then I would have been killed years ago."

Warderer drew himself up, obviously prepared to fling back the insult, and then maybe even attack. Mishalea's cold, glittering, green eyes had locked onto his face. Warderer stared back at her, but the King of Iom's eyes finally faltered and he turned to the side, her gaze had overpowered his.

Sullenly he muttered, "Fine, I was just… distressed. Let's get back to the real problem, the Shining Force." Mishalea smiled as he flushed angrily.

Lynx blinked and then he spoke rather urbanely, "Well you know, I think the fact of the matter is that we've been failing because the officer in charge of the troops has been rather ineffectual and incompetent." Mishalea snorted. Lynx might be quite a brilliant commander, but even he had his weak spot and its name was Eiku.

Eiku's face stiffened and his eyes flashed. Mishalea didn't really blame him, but she was concerned. It was important that she not offer any weaknesses that Max, Warderer, or Zeon , whenever he deigned to arrive, could exploit.

For a moment Eiku's mouth worked. Finally, as though thinking better of what he was going to say, he snarled, "I would be doing just fine against the Shining Force if I had the troops, supplies and money that I needed." He blinked and continued in an astonished voice, "But wait, I already mentioned that didn't I? And it didn't go down with you now did it?"

Paezorta quickly stepped in, "Well my Lady that would certainly account for the death of Jaroll, as Sub-Commander Eiku has been somewhat underfunded." Paezorta's voice held a slightly nervous quality to it.

Mishalea replied, "Is that all that's bothering you Paezorta? Jaroll was like scores of soldiers here greedy, ambitious, deceitful. His death is no great loss, and he died through his own folly." She turned back to the rest of the council.

_Jaroll. What a fool._

Her eyes narrowed in speculation and then she sighed, "Fine, if anyone else has their own private or public insults to render do it quickly and do it now, otherwise I'm expecting a full report from all of you." Mishalea's tone was pointed. For a moment a tense silence filled the room but no one said anything, unwilling to risk Mishalea's ire.

It was then that the pockmarked officer Solo came forward.

"I, Solo, have begun the construction of a secret underground fortress that I call Alshar," he informed in his raspy voice. With an oily smirk the blue-robed figure continued, "While Alshar shall take some time to complete I am confident that it can be finished by the end of two months at the earliest."

"Whom have you used for workers to build the fort Lord Solo?" inquired Mishalea.

_Is there something here? I thought Warderer to be well-protected. If Solo's weakened that however…_

The greasy looking officer rasped, "I have conquered five villages surrounding the area where I planned to build, and made them my workers. My faithful soldiers are guarding them as well as the Nar."

The knight, Hindel, made a disgusted sound.

Solo taunted, "You can't stand to have any millitary group of Iom out of your power can you Hindel?"

Hindel replied in a flat voice, "My authority is absolute Solo. The Nar are hardly out of my power whatever illusions you may harbor. But it's no matter to me if you choose to delude yourself."

Solo sneered, "They are all fanatically loyal to me Hindel and they will not accept your petty authority unless I tell them to."

Hindel coolly replied, "If you think that you can seize power then just try it. Lord Warderer, I had not wished to bring this up in council, but as Solo has chosen to make an issue of it… I will be frank; Solo is untrustworthy. Every move that he makes increases his own power, power which is growing, I might add, at an unprecedented rate."

The Iom General Barbara broke in, "Yes, Lord Warderer I agree with Hindel. Solo is a problem, a schemer, we could easily find someone to replace the cowardly, sick, sick… thing." Her voice held a note of extreme distaste.

Solo's mouth quirked as he sighed, "Ah Barbara you're so… passionate." He completed the insult with a long suggestive smirk.

Barbara's face paled.

"You… you… you," she grated, but no words would suffice for her. She lunged forward grabbing Solo around the throat. Solo raised his arms quickly to defend himself but he was too late.

At this point Mishalea pointed her finger at the two of them looking almost lazy. A huge ball of fire burst from her hand and rushed forward scorching both of them.

Barbara having taken the worst of it fell to her knees in pain. Solo, rubbing at his throat backed warily away.

Mishalea laughed and a cruel smile touched her perfect face. She took a moment to savor her victory before addressing Warderer. "If you cannot learn to control your dogs then don't bother to bring them to council."

Warderer's eyes bulged and he said in a slow controlled voice, "Barbara, Hindel, Solo we can… discuss this another time. Now does anyone else here have anything to report, or have you succeeded in proving yourselves incompetent?" His eyes wandered over his officers, but none of them broke the silence.

Warderer turned back to Mishalea and said, "That takes care of my division, oh Lady of Darkness." He spoke her title sarcastically and she almost winced at the thought that that was the best that Warderer could come up with.

He was obviously losing his edge.

Mishalea spoke crisply, "Rilix, do you have anything to add?"

The Vandal floated closer in her sedan chair, reminding the others as always of her immense power. Rilix had always looked an old crone, but now her face was ravaged. Actually it wasn't that surprising considering the Kane had rebounded her own energy upon her. Mishalea was always careful to be respectful around Rilix. Especially as their agreement was specifically between the two of them. She would not see the Vandals in bed with either Warderer or Zeon.

Rilix said in her cruel harsh tones, "I have penetrated their defenses to my crystal… partially. I still cannot hear them but I can easily get a clear picture of them. Watch."

The orb that was attached to one of the arms of the chair slowly swelled to immensity. Colors flickered on the glossy surface finally settling into an image, an image of the camp of the Shining Force. They could see all of them.

Gort roaring, Tao sulking, Hanzou watching, Arthur sniggering, and all of the others and what they were doing. The image passed a small group of people, Deanna was saying something to Ruce and there was Domingo and Kockichi as well as Ken and Alef.

Hindel stiffened up suddenly and Rilix snapped, "What's wrong? Is this little trick too much for you?"

"Ah I just… I mean they have allies," he finished rather weakly.

Rilix snorted and then slowly let the image fade away and the orb shrink back down.

She said smugly, "And as you can see it will only be a matter of time before I manage to extract every piece of information that we shall need."

Mishalea turned and looked at Bangar and Gwaid expectantly. Gwaid shook his head.

Bangar said apprehensively, "Ah… you gave me sssssome time to relax after the interrogation oh Lady of terrifying ssstrength."

Mishalea screamed, "You think that you can just rest around do you? I am the Lady of Darkness, and you must learn not to disappoint me underling, down on your knees and feel pain!"

An aura surrounded the Dark Elf witch and it flew from her, now surrounding Bangar. The reptilian creature howled in agony and fell to the ground, calling out for mercy. He writhed and the sight was made gruesome by the sight of all of his rippling fat.

Slowly Mishalea relaxed her will leaving Bangar in convulsive shudders on the ground. She silently conceded that the display might, perhaps, have been a bit excessive, but all the same these little lessons were necessary every now and again.

She turned to her own officers and glared at them. Not that they needed any more incentive to make good their report, not after what just happened to Bangar.

Paezorta murmured, "Lady, you have not as yet given me any new orders or themes to follow so regrettably I have nothing to report."

Mishalea's eyes tightened for a moment and then she said smoothly, "Of course Paezorta, that is certainly a reasonable excuse."

Magus's face was shining with sweat and he looked mutely at the ground. Mishalea snorted. She sometimes wondered why she bothered with the fool; he was far too steeped in his vices to make much of a general. She snapped, "Say something. Your intentions perhaps?"

He gaped at her for a moment and then started bumbling, "Well I… that is to say… in any event…"

"Oaf," she muttered. She continued, "It occurs to me, Magus, that if perhaps you were not drunk all the time you might be of some _slight_ use. So, let me put it this way; if you are caught with drink ever, then I shall kill you. At least," she amended, "not until I see some results."

He looked highly insulted, but wisely had enough wit about him not to protest.

Mishalea murmured appreciatively, "See how much better Magus takes his punishment Bangar? He does not whimper like you. I think that this has earned you another beating, wouldn't you agree?" Her voice was very sweet and reasonable, and that much more chilling for all the others gathered close enough to hear which equaled everybody inside of the shrine of Mishalea.

The Lady of Darkness turned her attention to Eiku. Evidently he was the next on her list for a report.

Eiku quickly spoke up, in that smug manner he had.

"Mistress, I have followed the orders of High Commander Lynx and set up a platoon of soldiers, headed by my faithful right hand, Cellion, to watch and capture anyone who tries to come through the area. So far there has been no call for alarm and no sign of anyone in the area. I also have been devising an ambush which, if successful will mean the end of the Shining Force, and I have been very careful in my calculations and so forth. The only reason it might fail is because I'm on a tight budget as well as being completely underfunded. If you want the details you can ask High Commander Lynx."

Lynx flushed but Mishalea fixed her gaze on him.

The High Commander threw a stiff salute and barked, "I've been inspecting the troop's, milady, to be sure that they're all prepared and so forth, I also made some switches in various armies so that all of our troops will be in the place that suits them best. Unfortunately I haven't been able to do much else lately Mistress."

Mishalea's face hardened and she hissed, "Lynx, you have been doing nothing besides continuing your feud with Eiku. I will not have it! You are High Commander. Act like one."

Her voice had been a steadily rising crescendo until it had finally reached the shrieking point. Lynx flinched and drew back.

Mishalea smiled cruelly, "You clearly have been chastened, however, would you not agree that some punishment is in order? I'll let you lead the ambush that Eiku is devising."

Lynx protested, "Mishalea, that would be… dishonorable… I couldn't do that." His voice held a note of extreme distaste for the idea.

Her tone was very quiet as she said, "Don't test my patience Lynx. You will lead this ambush. And I will not hear another word of protest, your sense of honor be dammed."

Eiku sneered, "Call it what it is, cowardice."

Lynx's eyes burned with furious anger and he started to move, but Mishalea ordered, "Shut up."

Eiku did so.

Mishalea turned to the undead.

Death Wodol answered for all of them, "We work on gaining a monumental army of those who have died yet come back to life as we did, against such odds the Shining Force will have no chance."

Mishalea smiled, "If that is all there is to be said, then all of you go, now and leave me to my contemplation."

_That one is lying. _

They all did so immediately. Mishalea went back over the whole interview in her mind. She concluded that it had not gone badly.

---

Kari slowly paced around in the subterranean caverns that she was hiding in. The blue woman had been thinking about the current problem at hand. The Shining Force, Mishalea and her allies, Bangar and Gwaid. She had thought of an audacious plan, but it would take care of everything. Now she just had to figure out how exactly to pull it off.

---

Slowly he came awake. His eyes were swollen shut except for a tiny bit through which he could see. His whole body was in agonizing pain. He wondered what exactly was happening. Then he saw a figure. Black armor maybe. It was hard to tell. The figure dragged him along. He puzzled about it for a moment or two, but the pain cut short his contemplations. He decided that it was an angel.

---

"I can't get close enough to the shrine to know exactly what they're plotting Mistress, but I could make a guess. It isn't too hard to read most of them," reported Kisaragi.

"That's about all I know."

Dava considered for a moment the information that Kisaragi's spying had turned up for her.

"Well it doesn't seem that they are doing anything that is too dangerous to us, or being too unpredictable to warrant an immediate attack. I say that for now we should ignore the lot of them and focus on the Shining Force. I underrated their powers greatly. I never expected them to be able to bind Ull in the spirit realm. You've done well Kisaragi. I don't have anything else for you to do at the moment so you may join Bulldor and Chu Rao."

The spiriter turned her attention to Baron, the greater spirit that was her other captain.

"How progresses the search for the ancient weapon Baron?"

"I have located the site where it is. It shall take much time and care to excavate, but we shall easily be able to make up the lost time with it."

He paused and then said tentatively, "Do you think that the ancient crystal will be very helpful in defeating our enemies Dava?"

"It shall be a key to their defeat Baron, get it to me as soon as possible."

"Yes, Dava." The spirit drifted away to see to its task of excavating the ancient crystal.

Dava sat and brooded.

---

"Tell me Geshp, how far are we from the fortress of the cursed witch?" asked a horrible croaking, hoarse voice.

"Not for at all master," insured a smaller creature in tones of great sliminess.

"Very good Geshp, gather all of the others here and let us press on."

"Of course master."


	13. Chapter 13: Ian

Chapter 13

Ian

Ian sat huddled by the fire. It had been a decent day; he and his friends had covered a few leagues. The warrior was dressed in plain garb, a dull brown for the most part. The tunic was thick, rough, and homespun. It was protective enough, although he didn't have any illusions that it would seriously protect him from an armed enemy. He also wore a light red cloak, and his sword was always sheathed, in plain view.

It was a fine blade, well-beaten, polished steel, fairly long and not at all broad although it wasn't slim enough to be a rapier. It also had a perfect balance, and was well sharpened, nicely honed so that it could slip through some ribs yet be able to hack through some very stout armor.

As to the man himself, perhaps in his late teens, he had sandy blond hair that was slightly long in the front, but was swept of to the sides with the help of a red head-band while being fairly long in the back. His eyes were dark and very intense, and his face while having no special feature had a way of standing out, to even the loftiest aristocrat. His skin had a nice, even tan, his lean figure rippled with honed muscle, and there was something unspeakably elegant about him.

Ian was clearly the unspoken leader of his group, a group that numbered seventeen total. They all knew well how to fight, doing mercenary work for the most part, but it was clear that such work was merely a living to these people.

There was a soft wing-beat on the air, and a birdman flew down to the fire.

"Ah, nice fire. Well there doesn't seem to be anything much on up ahead Ian, but you never know. Are you sure that Rune is the right place to look? I still think that Paramecia would be more probable."

Ian smiled slightly, "Kiddo, we're operating on mere guesses, so I honestly don't have any inkling of where he's most likely to be. I know nothing of his character after all, but as we're here I suggest that we go through Rune and Protectora, then maybe down into the islands before we head back to Paramecia."

Kiddo, brightly-colored with green feathers, nodded his head and stretched luxuriously out by the fire. "Eh, it's your choice."

They sat together for a few more minutes, and then Ian stretched, got up and wandered around camp, more for the need of physical activity than to check on the others.

His good friend Mead, a centaur, nodded at him as he relaxed a little. Mead had light brown hair, and blue eyes, wearing full body armor. He preferred a spear to the lance or halberd.

Paige the dwarf sat by the cooking fire, watching meat roast on a spit. Paige wore a horned helmet, heavy armor, and a light brown cloak. His axe was at his side. Paige was a cynic, but Ian was very fond of him all the same. Besides which, his fatalism could be rather amusing in various circumstances. Cynthia was also by the fire, her maroon eyes worried, and her long blue hair waving in the breeze. She wore robes, typical of a healer and wielded a staff. At the moment she was cooking.

Hawel stood not far from the fire, practicing his magic. The apprentice mage wore a loose black robe, had an untidy mess of brown hair, wore spectacles and had a sour look on his face, having singed his robe. Hawel was amongst the youngest members of the group at a bare fifteen.

Knuckles the monk lay on the mossy ground of camp, sleeping. Knuckles had a smooth shiny face, with traces of baby fat on it. Being completely bald, with squinty eyes, and a generous proportion of a nose, he looked quite comical. The monk favored a stout staff, although many monks fought with their hands alone. Knuckle's approach was hardly uncommon, though.

Sonnete stood not far away. She was an elven archer, and wore a light green tunic, and pantaloons, which made her rough boots, look out of place. She had lush, curling red hair that hung a little past her shoulder blades.

Sylvia, a centaur stood apart from the others. She had always been something of a loner. She was a little smaller than Mead, but had just as much armor, and she favored a lance. Her eyes had a curious golden, tawny color, and her hair was blue, although its shade was paler than that of Cynthia's hair.

Julia the birdwoman was hovering lazily over camp. Her feathers were pale pink, although it was hard to tell seeing that she wore a lot of armor, topping it off with a small conical helmet. She wielded a small sword as larger ones were too heavy for her. Her dark eyes glittered fiercely.

Sazuke the ninja sat and watched the others around him. The man had black hair, quite a lot of it and bushy eyebrows. His brown eyes held a look of intelligence about them giving his face a slightly savage appearance. He used a long slim blade that had an unpronounceable name. There was a peculiar fluid grace about him when he fought.

Ruburan was the other ninja of the group. Ruburan had once been the leader of a band of thieves, but at the moment he leaned easily against a tree. His face was intelligent and hard with dark eyes something in between black and dark brown. His long hair was red and swept back. He fought solely with katanas.

_Nosshu…_

For a moment Ian felt his sadness well up, but he pushed it aside. He would not remember Nosshu.

Eric had joined the group at the campfire eager for food. Eric was a half-dragon and somewhat surprisingly fought with swords. He wore a bluish kind of armor and had an ornate helmet. His face running from his nose to his jaw was a raw red in color. He had dark eyes and green-blue scales.

Minto the kyantol was a sorceress. Her fur was dull, unremarkable gold and her eyes liquid brown. She wore heavy robes and wielded a staff with a stone on one end. She was stretched out, relaxing.

Morton was an old monk, with a sun-bronzed complexion. He was almost bald only with bushy, white hair on his forehead. He had a long, scraggly, white beard as well. Morton was huddled around the fire. Ian had come to rely on the monk's vast experience.

Ridion the dwarf was stout, and old, and one of the pillars of Ian's life. He relied on Ridion's experience almost as much as he did on Morton's. Ridion had tanned, cracked, wrinkled old skin, a large bulbous nose and a bushy white mustache, and beard. He fought with a decently large axe, and had joined the ever growing group around the fire.

The last of the party was a samurai named Kojirou. He sat cross-legged by a tree sharpening his blade, and occasionally pausing to polish it. He wore the soft suit of a samurai, and had shiny black hair that was pulled back in a ponytail.

Cynthia stood up and called, "The meat's roasted, and the rest of the food is prepared, you want dinner come and get it."

Ian joined the rest of the group at the fire, those who had not been there having immediately rushed over seeing the promise of dinner.

There wasn't much talking, everybody focusing on their stomachs. Hawel was the first to break the silence.

"So, what's our next move?"

Ian paused a moment to snag another piece of meat before he replied, "Well we're going to be entering populated area soon, so I think we might need some good local data, and definitely we'll need to scout ahead. I propose to do the scouting, and it will be a good way of finding out the general lay of things here. As for a more general plan, well we should investigate this part of the world while we're here."

Ruburan glanced up and murmured, "Are you sure that you should go Ian? Why not Kiddo or Julia? Even if you don't want to send them there's myself and Sazuke. As ninjas, we're very skilled in the ways of concealment." He left the rest unsaid. Ian had often tried to puzzle out Ruburan. The man was at varying times both harsh and kind and often seemed to hint that he knew something.

The ninja, jolting Ian out of his reflection, added almost as an afterthought, "There's Eric too."

Ian replied, "Kiddo just got back from scouting ahead. I really want to do something myself anyway. Anyone else have objections?"

Ridion grumbled, "Well now lad, how are you going to find yer way back to camp if you're all busy and gone?"

Sylvia snorted, "The same way all of our scouts find there way back, just let Ian go. He'll be fine."

Cynthia said nothing, just merely looked off into the distance. Her meaning was clear. She didn't like the idea, but she wasn't going to start an argument out of it.

Sonnete sighed, "We go through this every time, with every scout. Why not just be democratic about it and vote instead?"

There was some grumbling, but Sonnete's plan was quickly adopted. There were more in favor for Ian to go than out.

Ian quickly packed some supplies and then said, "Mead, Paige, Sonnete… try to lead to the others as best you can."

Without another word Ian struck out, southeast.

---

Ridion the dwarf struggled with his ancient rage, his constant boiling resentment. All of his life he had fought, been shrewd and cunning. All of his merit gone unrewarded. All of his talent gone unrecognized. His heart was bitter, having grown up in a land that offered no second chances.

So he had joined up with Ian's group. Even here though, he was not appreciated, not given what was rightfully his. Then had come the visitation. The chance he had been looking for.

He had been asked to become someone else's agent. He hadn't refused. He thought of Ian again and fury struck him. He deserved more than Ian's other friends to be on the council, with Mead, Paige and Sonnete. So, nursed on the bitter milk of thwarted ambition he felt no regret, no compunctions, about betraying Ian.

This was a land with no room for compassion. A land where there was always enough hatred to go around. Ridion knew that it would always be this way here.

Ridion blinked, and then ignored his anger and slipped out of camp to for his rendezvous with Paezorta the elf.

The smirking elf was already there and snapped, "What took you so long, idiot?"

Ridion ignored the insult and snarled straight back, "There was a meeting, Ian's moving off for some scout work, in fact he's moving right in the way of your precious Lady of Darkness, so you can deal with him."

Paezorta's violet eyes blazed and he hissed, "What do you think will happen then you dolt? We cannot risk openly becoming involved in this or the Shining Force might gain the rest of Ian's party as allies. We need the betrayal to come from you."

Ridion taunted him, "Afraid to do your own dirty work, gods you disgust me. You have no backbone elf, you mewling, spineless, sycophant."

Paezorta's face stiffened with anger and he whipped his arm backwards, then swung forward making a violent gesture as he did so. The fire now in the palm of his hand he released and his arm traveled through space.

Ridion gave a muffled shout of surprise and flung himself to the side. He hit the ground hard as he heard the sizzle of the flames striking the forest floor. Mechanically he rolled further to the side, only to feel the elf's boot kicking into his ribs.

The High Captain smiled cruelly, undoubtedly thinking he had won, and pulled out a vicious looking sacrificial knife from his belt. But he had underestimated the dwarf.

Ridion surged to his hands pulling out his axe as he went. The stout, hardy, old campaigner had been through too many battles to be that easily defeated. He lunged forward, his axe making a horizontal chop at Paezorta's chest.

The elf was also fast and moved to the side, ducking simultaneously thus completely dodging the blow. Ridion jumped backward, but he was too late.

Even before Paezorta finished straightening up, he threw his dagger at the dwarf. Ridion threw himself to the right of a tree he had backed up to, but his beard flew out in front of the tree.

The knife went through the beard and consequently got stuck in the tree.

Ridion and Paezorta looked at each other, consternation on their faces. On the one hand Ridion was successfully pinned down. On the other, the High Captain couldn't go over there without going in range of the sharpened axe. And they both knew that Ridion would cut his own beard off to avoid a magical attack. They also knew that Ridion wouldn't try to pull the knife out since it would expose him to further attack.

Paezorta glared at the dwarf that had, without even intending to, neatly outmaneuvered him. It was interesting for Ridion to watch him. The elf had to be smart if he had risen so high… and yet, to have attacked Ridion was bold to the point of brashness. Did the elf really hate him that much? Not for the first time the aging dwarf wondered if he might have made a mistake…

Ridion continued to watch the elf with apprehension wondering if perhaps he couldn't dodge a magical attack, and would be killed here today. He also wondered why the elf had frozen in place as though he were the one pinned down.

His passion for killing the elf had been his mistake. And now he was terrified for his life.

All the same he put on a tough face, "What're you waiting for elf?"

He grinned insultingly, "To scared to cut out me tripes?"

The High Captain clenched his jaw briefly and then replied in a strained voice, "Why don't we… forget about this until our business is concluded?"

Ridion snarled, "You think that I'd fall fer that when ye tried to murder me? Blunderin' idiot, do your worst elf, 'afore you feel your brains being mixed with me axe!" That was better. He could feel his confidence returning as he taunted the elf.

Paezorta's nostrils flared, but he still spoke easily, "In that case keep the knife dwarf and then you'll have the upper hand."

Ridion glared suspiciously at the elf for a moment and then exposed his back and ripped the knife out of the trunk.

Ridion spun back around quickly. The elf hadn't moved, but still… He wondered just how badly Paezorta wanted to kill him. He supposed that it was fortunate for himself that Mishalea had work for him. The scummy elf probably wouldn't raise a hand against Ridion, not at least without a very good reason.

The dwarf grunted, "So, what does Mishalea want now?"

Paezorta replied, "She wants you to hurry up and do the work that you were charged with. Kill this swordman, Ian or whatever he calls himself. And bring us his head."

The dwarf sneered, "And what proof do I have that I'll get my reward instead of being killed, elf? I'm not an idiot. I'm not finishing my work without some sort of guarantee."

Paezorta's lavender eyes glowed and he said icily, "The best reason of all is yours dwarf; if you don't do it then you are dead."

Ridion naturally would expect that, but the elf's expression was completely chilling, and more than he would have cared to admit, disturbed the hardened old warrior.

Ridion asked, "And I will get immortality… your mistress can do that?"

"Of course."

_Look at him. Is he lying?_

Ridion hesitated a moment and then he nodded his head and muttered, "I'll do it."

Paezorta smiled slightly and then summoned a purple blaze. Ridion scrabbled backward, but the elf stepped into it and vanished. The old dwarf took a deep breath. Much as he hated to admit it, the fire had been rather impressive…

"Damn him. Damn his elvish hide."

---

Cellion rubbed his aching head. By all the gods above and below he hated this country. He hated these barbarians. To add insult to injury he was now posted on this tedious assignment, and it was all because of High Commander Lynx.

Oh, Cellion couldn't deny Lynx's fighting abilities, or his intelligence, but he loathed his smirking superior all the same. So smug. So self-serving. So manipulative. Such a woman chasing fool.

Of course Cellion also had to admit that as Lord Eiku's underling he also disliked Lynx because of his association with his master.

What made the whole thing even worse was the fact that he was stuck with the lizardmen. The brutal creatures were very strong, and, as a result of that and their somewhat limited cunning, they were useful in the capacity of absolute brute strength, but they had absolutely no intelligence what so ever.

All right, so that wasn't true, but… they were stupid creatures, and Cellion loathed stupidity. Sometimes he truly loathed the world.

He couldn't wait until he had some sort of excuse to report back to Lord Eiku. He had caught two prisoners the other day, and normally he would already be back with them, but to him there seemed to be something special about the centaur and human he had caught.

He also understood these barbarians better than his thin-blooded superiors ever had and immediately had begun harsh measures. The interrogation was one art at which the lizardmen excelled. He hoped to break the prisoners himself. If he had to take them back, then of course some of the others would know that it had been he who was behind this, but he knew that they would take the credit for it. Whereas if he did it himself… well who knew what glory he could reap from it? He might even be brought to the attention of Mishalea herself!

He sighed as the lizardman, Slit, came to inform him of progress.

"Ahhh, se prisoners have not been talking boss, sey be very resistant to all se measures sat I take. Even se clawing of-"

Cellion quickly interrupted, "That's enough, no need to go into details." He truly didn't want to know what sort of sick tortures Slit could come up with. Just because he sanctioned it didn't mean he had to like it, or indulge in it anyway.

Eyes tightening, Cellion continued, "And I think it's time I got a new interrogator, Slit. You seem highly unsuccessful and dare I say… expendable." Truth to tell, Slit had given him no cause for displeasure, but the Captain felt a need to vent his spleen.

Cellion, who although he used a sword and always had a hidden dagger, pulled his bow up to fire when Slit, moving faster than Cellion had imagined the lizardman's bulk would allow, ripped out his axe and launched himself forward, to defeat Cellion's arrow range.

Cellion twisted to the side however, and stamped a foot on the lizardman's tail as he sped past the archer, carried by his own momentum.

Slit cried out in pain and turned back only to get a heavy double hand to his gut. The lizardman fell to the cold, hard stone and Cellion quickly pulled his bowstring and pointed the arrow an inch away from his enemy's face, pointed right between the eyes. Cellion had always been an excellent archer. Sword-play suited him well enough, but his true weapon was the bow. Although, he silently conceded to himself that it had been foolish not to go for the sword at that range.

"Vhat, is sis? Vhat are you doing to my soldier you little scum?"

Cellion spun around to face the leader of the lizardmen, Rippclaw. Rippclaw was holding a torch and he swung it around agitatedly.

Fire.

Cellion had always been secretly terrified of fire. Ever since he had been a child, he had recognized that he had a strange cold, dark, resistant power in his veins. Fire did not easily harm him, but it resisted that quality that was so much of who he was.

Fire.

It frightened him.

Rippclaw loudly, and arrogantly demanded that Slit be left unmolested and be returned to his immediate custody.

_Here I thought that you weren't even literate and you turn around and throw words at me like unmolested?_

"Oh really?" he replied dryly.

Rippclaw blew on a whistle sharply and about twenty lizardmen immediately moved up around him, ready to fight. There was nothing the foolish creatures enjoyed more than an excuse to fight.

Cellion sighed, "Take your miserable bootlicker off of my hands then, would you?" He said it sarcastically, but he was just as glad to be rid of Slit all the same.

Rippclaw smirked at him, and then turned to swagger away.

"A man is approaching."

Cellion looked down startled slightly at the sentry's cry, but not displeased.

He barked, "All right, everyone into your positions, especially you archers." Cellion rubbed his hands in anticipation. _A third prisoner… that could make all the difference._

He turned and said to Rippclaw, "Two of your men will go down there for the negotiation, with one of mine."

Rippclaw considered the offer and finally working out that it was in his favor agreed without complaint, although he somewhat amusingly picked out Slit to be one of the men that went down there.

Cellion crouched beneath the parapet and proceeded to play the waiting game.

---

Ian had been walking for the last few hours. He had covered the ground surprisingly fast, but had been aware for the last few minutes that he was approaching some sort of fortification.

_I suppose that they'll be aware of me as well. Aye, and waiting for me to show myself._

Whistling lightly, he stepped on forward.

---

If Ian had been expecting a warm reaction, he didn't get one. Cellion took careful note of the surprise on the young man's face at the sight of the lizardmen. The stranger turned to Cellion's own man instead.

The soldier said curtly, "Hand over your weapons dog, and surrender yourself now. You won't be harmed."

Ian lifted a single dark brow and said simply, "No."

One of the lizardmen's faces screwed up with hatred and he moved to punch Ian in punishment for his rather impetuous refusal of their orders.

Ian dodged the blow and neatly caught he opponent's wrist, and finished by the rolling the half-breed onto its back.

The soldier again ordered, "Turn over your weapons… unless you're trying to tell me that you were invited here?"

One of the lizardmen snapped, "Kill him."

Both of the dumb creatures moved forward at once. The soldier leapt forward to stop them, but Slit smashed his axe into the soldier's chest armor, restricting his breathing space, and then neatly sliced his head in half. Cellion lurched to his feet in fury but paused in astonishment at the scene below.

As the soldier fell away, the two lizardmen rushed eagerly. One jumped at Ian, and realized in surprise that his leg wouldn't support his weight. He looked down in confusion and saw a huge gash in his thigh. His gaze went back to Ian who moments later used a sword, that hadn't even been in his hands when the creature made his jump, to slit the lizardman's throat.

Slit's compatriot died without a sound.

Ian took off running.

Cellion jumped up and down screaming maniacally, "Get him, just don't kill him!"

The Captain felt rather a great relief as he saw one of his archer's arrows slam into the swordman's back. The arrows were coated with a poison that would knock anyone out.

Rippclaw lept up and shrieked, "Kill se damned little murderer, kill him now!"

Cellion replied coolly, "No, he's going back to Lord Eiku."

"He killed von of my soldiers."

"Your man killed one of mine."

"I don't care!"

Cellion finally lost hold of his temper. "I'm in charge here, do as I say," he thundered.

Rippclaw shot forward and snatched Cellion be the shirt with those claws that he was so aptly named for, just as the archer started to bring up his bow.

"I am in charge now."

Rippclaw's hot breath fanned Cellion's face.

Cellion nodded and gulped, "Y-Yes sir."

"Good," sneered Rippclaw. The lizardman was about to throw Cellion when he suddenly jerked awkwardly, letting the Captain fall from his grasp.

Cellion followed his gaze downward to the arrow protruding from the lizardman's stomach.

Cellion laughed at the look of horror on Rippclaw's face as the dying fool slid to the ground. "I just ran the arrow through you instead of firing it off of the bow. Did that possibility ever occur to you deadbrain?"

The lizardman gurgled incoherently as his life ended on the battlements there. For just a brief moment Cellion felt absurdly guilty…

_No. The fool brought it on himself. Besides, Rippclaw was a disaster just waiting to happen._

He snapped, "We're taking the prisoner back to Lord Eiku, now."

As the force started to move out he practically ignored the stranger. If Rippclaw could make a power-play so could others. As he had hoped, however, there was no further resistance to his command.

---

Eiku stood in his personal chambers yet again viewing the items that had been confiscated from the prisoner.

The sub-commander hefted the weighty sack of gold that the stranger had possessed. Clearly a busy man. To be sure, there had been a few other meaningless baubles, but what really interested Eiku was the sword.

_A Parmecian sword._

After all, such blades were rarely seen, even on the continent of Parmecia. True Parmecian swords had not been common for centuries. Immediately realizing what this meant, Eiku had demanded to be able to inspect the prisoner whilst he was still sedated. As he had hoped, he had found the mark of a swordmaster on the prisoner's shoulder.

Eiku silently exulted in his discovery. A swordmaster, was, after all the most skilled type of warrior in the world. A mercenary. Ordinarily the man could be charged with execution for the fiasco that Cellion had outlined to him that had occurred back at the fortress. This swordmaster would be eager to keep his life. As long as he was in chains, Eiku could take it whenever he pleased, after all.

Admittedly making use of such a man was risky. A gamble, and unauthorized besides. But, the prisoner was a mercenary, he could be counted on to think and act like one. Furthermore, if he kept hold of the swordmaster's gold… A knock came at the door.

"Enter."

As Eiku had expected it was the guards who had escorted the chained swordmaster. The sub-commander marveled. Even wounded and chained the man looked deadly. He flicked two fingers at the guards, a brusque command. They quickly released the man.

One of them hesitated and said, "Sir… you should remain guarded…"

Eiku snapped, "Very well. You. Outside the door. You," gesturing at the other man, "In here. Go." Turning back to the swordmaster he commanded, "Sit." The man took the chair in front of Eiku's desk.

Finally Eiku turned to truly study the man. He was startled by what he saw.

Granserian!

Eiku still remembered his campaigns in Granseal. Treacherous, bloody, barbarians… It seemed oddly fitting for the swordmaster to be at least part Granserian. Eiku suddenly remembered, it was rumored that Max himself was a Granserian by birth as well…

Eiku began without preamble, "You're a swordmaster?"

The man answered quietly, "Yes."

He frowned slightly. The man didn't seem to be remotely concerned. He had hoped to pick up an advantage with his abrupt start, but it seemed he had not. "Why did you resist my men?"

"I don't allow others to disarm me."

"You could have applied to me to have your weapons returned. And all I have ever heard of swordmasters suggests that they surrender their weapons to show respect, on occasion."

The man looked murderous. "Most men would have treated a swordmaster with more courtesy than your soldiers did. A swordmaster may voluntarily give up his weapons to show respect, but it can never be forced from him."

"And you did not," Eiku challenged, "find it appropriate to voluntarily give up your weapons and show respect to me?"

The man's mouth twitched slightly. "I was… not asked nicely."

Eiku smiled slightly. The verbal exchange had proved that he was a man of intelligence, a very useful trait.

Eiku leaned forward, "Ordinarily you would already be dead for your crimes. I have quite an extensive list."

A slow smile spread across the man's face and he asked, "Who do you want me to kill?

Eiku silently congratulated himself for his good judgment. Finally, the solution to his most pressing difficulty had offered itself. He asked genially, "What's your name?"

"They call me Ian. Now, enough games, Commander. Who do you want me to kill?" The cynical smile was back.

Eiku, already savoring his victory, replied, "His name is Max."


	14. Chapter 14: Alliance

Chapter 14

Alliance

"That's the worst of it then?"

Eiku nodded and scowled, "As I tell you he's trying to alter the entire balance of power in this region."

Ian asked contemptuously, "And you haven't crushed this group of malcontents or at the very least have recaptured them?"

Eiku hissed, "We'd have him by now, but he knows this territory the way a man knows his wife's body."

Ian nodded and then added, "And that I suppose was the reason for attacking innocent bystanders?" He lifted a brow.

Eiku shrugged and replied, "We can't be too careful."

The many conversations that the two had shared had been quite the same. Ian disdainful, Eiku wrathful. Ian questioning, Eiku answering. The commander always seemed very content to dwell on this soldier, Max, and his various crimes.

He also treated Ian with enormous respect and courtesy. It amused the sardonic mercenary that the soldiers who had wounded him now did everything they possibly could to help heal it. Quite a few priests had chanted and cast healing magic, and he was allowed light exercise.

Eiku's deferential courtesy was quite ironic, and it kept Ian from getting bored.

He had spent most of his time cooped up with Eiku gathering as much information as he could. After all, the arrow wound was quite debilitating, even for a swordmaster. That didn't stop him from taking advantage of the light exercise he had been allowed so as to find out just how incapacitated he was. He was given a small courtyard for his purposes upon request.

Closing his eyes, Ian drilled. Every attack pattern he knew for the single-sword, every parry, every riposte, every counter-attack. As his eyes opened he couldn't resist a slight smile. As he had hoped the wound was painful and made some maneuvers a little awkward, but it wouldn't detract too badly from his abilities. And that was when he finally noticed all of Eiku's soldiers who had been about, gaping at him in stunned silence.

Eiku, standing on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, shouted good-naturedly, "We don't get many swordmasters in this part of the world."

Ian almost laughed. Even the commander seemed to half think that Max was invincible.

At long last he was ready and he with Eiku and quite a few guards were riding out of the fortress. Eiku did however, and had from the first, keep a firm hold on Ian's sword. Quite wise of the commander to have not trusted him with it.

Eiku leaned across his horse and handed Ian the sword as he explained, "This is as far as we're going. You should be able to get on now. I must of course apologize for holding on to your sword, not that I don't trust you, but it's wise to never take a man or what he says at face value."

Ian blinked and then conceded affably, "Why yes I suppose that's true."

Eiku added, "Good fortune go with you swordmaster… who knows after this there may be future contracts, you're a useful man."

Ian said dryly, "You'll find that I usually ask for more than the return of my own gold."

Eiku cut in jubilantly, "Here, not only will I return your gold; I'll double it, fair enough?"

Ian nodded slowly.

Eiku laughed, "It's worth even more to me than that, but I've got a budget to consider."

Ian replied blandly, "Yes, don't we all?"

Eiku and his men turned their mounts and the commander shouted back, "Death to Max."

Ian nodded, then grinned pleased at the impression he had obviously made. He kicked his heels into his mount and set off.

---

Mishalea studied her new allies with interest. It still amazed her that Zeon had agreed to this alliance, but then from what she knew of him he was reputedly hotheaded.

He also looked much as she had expected. His body was lean, and full of thick, corded muscle. His face was horribly marred, and loose skin hung down from it. His skin was a sort of dead pale green color and his eyes were filmy white, although he wasn't blind. His hair was a delicate shade of purple, but quite brittle, and the voice that issued from that cavernous throat was croaking, deep, resonating, and hoarse.

Even now she could feel the awesome power emanating from him warning her and all the others in the shrine that they were allies, not friends. Her cool gaze revealed nothing but interest, and nor did it need to. Everyone in the room knew of the ancient animosity, between the two opposing powers of darkness. The Shining Force had necessitated this distasteful alliance, and it would therefore be done.

Mishalea's eyes traveled to the rest of the officers that Zeon had surrounded himself with.

She knew his second by reputation alone. Sir Odd-eye stood proudly, boldly alone from the others. His hair was a deeper shade of purple than his master's, and he resembled a human. Mishalea was certain he wasn't one, but the dark elf couldn't tell what he was at all for that matter. He was clad entirely in some armor of devil workmanship, and wielded a vicious looking sword, although she had never heard of any special qualities it possessed. She had also heard of the legendary beams of energy his blind eyes could create, thus giving him his name. Overall she was not disappointed; he would be a force to be reckoned with.

Next she appraised Geshp. She had also heard of this particular lackey. He was delicately plump and had on heavy robes of blue, red, and purple. His eyes were yellow and at an odd angle, almost crossed. He was a powerful magician, but his intelligence was absolutely legendary. His skin was a deep green, and he was slimy, oily, and conniving. He always had his fingers in everything, and had at least two or three plots going at any given time, an ally that was somewhat less trustworthy than a venomous snake.

Now as her eyes lingered on the Greater Devil, Red Baron, a slight smile appeared on her lips. Red Baron was reputedly a human general of some kingdom or other on Grans Island. He was said to have been tough, honorable, and courageous. Zeon however, feeling the need for another minion had a being of his possess… Lemon, yes that was it, Red Baron's original name had been Lemon. Once possessed he had lost his free will and Zeon had replaced it with an unquenchable blood lust, even going so far as to give him an evil sword. Well, all great powers needed some measure of unthinking brute force, it wasn't unreasonable.

Next in line was Cameela. The woman's physical appearance was much similar to Mishalea's own, although her eyes were darker, and her evil beauty wasn't as flawless. Mishalea knew little of Cameela, other than the fact that she was ambitious and direct, two reasons why she absolutely hated Geshp. Geshp was cryptic, and he was higher up in Zeon's hierarchy than Cameela was. Cameela reputedly fought with a mace, and was supposed to be extremely powerful. It was mostly her impulsiveness that had held her back.

At the very bottom of the ladder was Zalbard. His skin was an aqua green and he kept himself rapped up and a robe of deep blue. His eyes were shining and yellow, and his mouth was in a constant sneer. He actually had short horns protruding out of his hood, and a small moustache. As for the devil himself, Mishalea had heard that he was something of a petty wizard, and got by with brains alone pretty much. He was rumored to be an excellent battle strategist, and to have some way of rendering himself invulnerable to the attacks of others. He was also supposed to be a decent fighter with claw-like hands, although he preferred his petty bolt spells.

She glanced around her, noting her own officers, and was pleased that Zeon had been struck with the full effect of all of them. Her power was undeniable, her minions' abilities certain, the strength of an ally like Rilix far outstripping Zeon's options.

Even Warderer and his lackeys, were solemn on this occasion. This was the most concerted alliance of dark power in history. Mishalea could finally taste the death of the Shining Force. No more, would Max threaten her power, no more would Kane interfere with her plans, no more would Prince Nick wield the Sword of Hajya. She would then finally be able to end the threat of Iom forever, to break Zeon's strength, make sure that undead could not choose their destiny as Death Wodol had, and finally exterminate all of the Vandals. She saw the glorious vision of the entire world united under dark power, and the rule of her master Darksol swim before her very eyes. It was intoxicating.

This was better than love, better than hate, better than whatever Max felt when he wielded the Chaos Breaker. All she had to do was kill a bunch of peasants first, and then when this was over no power of darkness would exist to stop her, and no power of light could stop her. First though… first she must finish this business.

She mouthed the ritual greeting that was customary between two different leaders of darkness, not bothering to try to sound sincere.

She inquired innocently, though with a slightly malicious undercurrent to her tone, "I trust that you completed your journey here unmolested? I have to say that I'm a little concerned, surely your officers didn't run into trouble?"

Zeon snapped bitterly, "You're well-informed, as always."

"My lord, I… I don't understand."

She almost started smirking, not only was her childish game infuriating, the slight emphasis on the words "my lord" spoke volumes of sarcasm. Zeon's face was already darkening with rage when one of his disciples quickly broke in.

"Ah, it is so rare is it not that one should be blessed to meet quite so many legends in one's life as most of the major powers in the world of darkness."

The voice was rich, smooth, cultured, and smug. Even if Mishalea hadn't been looking at the speaker she would have known that it was Geshp.

The advisor continued, "My dear Lady of Darkness, I trust that you referring to King Galam? The king is currently holding our lands on Grans Island, or did you think that we would leave it unguarded?"

Mishalea laughed, "I'm just a simple elven girl, I'm sure you'll have to forgive me." She knew that acting so girlish absolutely drove Zeon and probably Warderer insane and she enjoyed it.

She was also well pleased with Geshp's answer, particularly because she'd already gotten what she wanted. Zeon had responded to her admittedly obvious bait, proving that he was as much a hothead as she had ever heard. She stored this information away, knowing that someday that serious flaw would allow her to destroy Zeon, her principle rival.

Zeon said coldly, "Well, we've responded to this threat, the Shining Force. So why don't you tell us what you know? If you don't you won't have any hope of ending this soon."

_And doesn't that prospect appeal to you my lord. _

Mishalea replied with an equal coolness, "Naturally. At the moment I have my High Captain keeping an eye on some mercenaries, who could be a bit of a difficulty if they chose to be. Also Sub-Commander Eiku, has a fortress stationed, and has been working on getting local information, as well as working with the troops. Magus here is experimenting, trying to discover what type of traps will be the most effective against the Shining Force. I have busied myself for the most part with things of a slightly more… ah arcane matter, and Rilix has been using her abilities with her crystal to attempt and penetrate the Shining Force's camp. I believe that would conclude current activities Lord."

Zeon smirked and asked, "And what about dear High Commander Lynx? I don't see him, and I would hate to think that he's been misplaced."

Mishalea laughed, "Oops, did I forget to tell you? How clumsy of me. Lynx is currently ambushing the Shining Force."

Zeon looked slightly deflated, but then turned and barked, "What about you Warderer?"

Warderer's tone was a trifle sullen as he replied, "I've been trying revival experiments on Iom." Mishalea smiled slightly. Zeon's less than courteous demand had been intended as a slight, and Warderer had been fool enough to take it as one.

Zeon broke in on her thoughts dryly, "In that case I'll have to strengthen my defenses."

Warderer glared at him, "Do you mind? Anyway, Barbara here has been strengthening the Iom forces, and Solo is attempting to construct a Fortress that he calls Alshar, and to make it impregnable. Hindle is trying to block all possibilities of alliances that the Shining Force could conceivably make. I'd also like to point out that it was I who crushed Cypress although there are still a small group of ah… malcontents at large."

Zeon grinned at him, "I hope that you're better than the last time that we met?"

Warderer flushed angrily and turned his head aside. The seemingly innocent inquiry, was in fact a jab because the last time the two had met, Zeon had been trying to conquer Warderer, and had almost succeeded. Indeed it was only dumb luck that had saved Iom's favored as they both well knew.

Zeon silently demanded an explanation of the undead.

Paezorta, in a short and succinct manner informed the devil king of Death Wodol's efforts to create an army of undead.

Zeon sneered, "Well then I must go off to consult with my officers, so until next time, which I sincerely hope will be when the Shining Force is dead and that I kill you all."

The devils followed their master away and out of the Shrine leaving the others. Mishalea suddenly shook her head in consternation as understanding came to her and snapped, "You can all go about your duties."

The shrine quickly emptied and the dark elf pondered many things. Of two she was certain. Yes it had been the smart move to be sure that Zeon did not yet know of Bangar and Gwaid, and Zeon was definitely the first one… but then who was the second?

---

Arthur slowly patrolled the perimeter of the area his guard duty called for. The other guard was one of the warriors brought into camp with that guy Deanna.

Arthur was a bit sulky about that; he admitted that he had miscalculated but she had become enraged beyond reason. Having seen the fury that Deanna aroused in the mage Natasha, Arthur had stepped in sensing his chance, but when he tried to hit on the mage, she had only just stopped short of spitting in his face. And to add insult to injury Gort had insisted that he be stuck on perimeter guard for the next week.

How he hated Gort. The bigoted old dwarf always sided against him, and seemed intent on making Arthur's life a misery if as much as possible.

He circled back to the tent and growled bad-tempered at the small warrior with a pot on his head, "It's your turn you go do some duty so I can sleep."

The man stuck his head out of the tent and protested blearily, "You've still got five min-"

Arthur then heard, and to his death would continue to hear a sharp_ twang_, and to his horror an arrow suddenly seemed to be growing in-between the small warrior's eyes. With a sudden sort of shock the golden-haired centaur realized that he had never even known the dwarf's name.

He started to shout "Amb- OOF!" and he slumped down an arrow protruding from his chest.

---

Slade looked up weakly and gasped in pain, "Again, already we can… we can… can't take any more."

Graham looked up his expression mournful, "It looks like this is… the… end," he murmured hoarsely.

The cell door opened smoothly, and standing in the doorway was a powerful looking figure. His skin was a healthy light color of purple, his eyes dark, shrewd, assessing. He was wrapped in a shroud of dark robes, part of a purple cloak cascaded down his back. Power emanated from him.

Graham stared blankly at him and then asked, "And who the bloody hell are you?"

The… there weren't any indicators of race, the thing replied, "My name is immaterial, the point is I'm giving you a chance to escape." The voice was deep.

It continued, "For the moment… well drink this; it should restore your lifeblood."

He tossed a flask to the ground, and the inside of it swished with liquid. Graham would've drunk it anyway he was so thirsty, but something in the stranger's manner made him pause. Slade hesitated a moment, and then seized the flask, and uncorked it. He took two deep draughts and then nodded at his companion.

"It's safe."

Graham wordlessly took it and drained it, until it was empty.

He then cautiously probed, "All right… but how do you expect us to get out; this place has a large number of soldiers how do you expect us to get out?"

The creature almost smiled, but his features were a little too stern for the expression, "Over half of them have already been lured away; this is the one chance you're going to get."

The former prisoners stepped out and followed the thing out and to a staircase.

It stopped and informed them, "Up here are the battlements, where the captain of this fortress and his remaining guard are. After they're out of the way if you go all the way to the right side there are some vines you can climb down."

Graham asked skeptically, "Are you sure about that? I'm not built for climbing up and down vines you know."

It replied, "You'll manage it centaur."

The thing turned, as if to leave, and then turned back saying, "Oh, I almost forgot. You don't have any weapons, here take these."

Slade grabbed one and then sneered, "You expect us to fight with joined wooden sticks?"

The thing answered tersely, "It's a striking weapon; you'll get used to it."

The creature then hovered up into the air and vanished.

Slade paused and then finally asked the obvious question.

"Should we risk it?"

Graham replied with a slight lack of confidence, "I think we'll have too, it didn't seem to have the manner of one who was lying, and doing this really wouldn't do anything to us you know."

"I agree. Let's go up old friend."

---

Cellion bad-temperedly scanned the horizon for a sign of his returning men. He was hot, filthy and exhausted, and then he had seen the anomaly. Naturally concerned, he had sent his men out in force. It hadn't done anything to improve his mood, and they weren't back yet. And that was on top of Commander Eiku taking charge of the prisoner and then ordering him to come straight back to the fortress! To be certain, the commander had his reasons, but still…

Cellion was growing impatient, "The gods, where have they gone, surely investigating that… thing shouldn't be this difficult."

Wisely, all held their silence giving Cellion no outlet for his frustration, even Slit the new leader of the lizardmen.

"Where by all the god above and belo-"

Cellion broke off midsentence, and howled, "Stop them, the prisoners, stop them!"

He watched in horror as the two prisoners attacked and started downing the soldiers… and over half of his men gone right now. Having no clear shot he tore his sword out and flung himself to the side to avoid being hit by… a couple of sticks?

It was amusing to realize that these two actually thought they could defend themselves effectively, and even win against armed warriors with sticks.

It became a lot less amusing as he caught a solid blow in the side of the head. By the gods, how much it _hurt. _He clumsily started to try and block another blow only to be struck full in the face. He heard his nose break before he even felt the pain.

Collapsing to the ground, the last thing he felt before passing out was his skull trying to split open.

---

Slade looked up just in time to see Graham deal a solid blow taking out the lizardman who had tortured them. The centaur looked around for someone else to fight his shining with bloodlust, only to realize that there was no one else.

Quickly the two of them found the vine, and after some minor difficulties came down to the ground. They looked up and saw a human swordman passing by them.

Not recognizing where they were they agreed to follow the swordman in hopes that he might lead them to familiar territory.

---

Hindel sat alone contemplating what he should do. He had been enraged of course naturally he had been enraged, but this, this made his sense of betrayal feel hot again, and so rashly perhaps he had taken a chance. He stood up, knowing what he had to do.

---

Dava finally decided it was time to take action. She was willing to wait while Baron excavated the ancient weapon, but now she needed to decide what to do.

She walked into the room where her minions had gathered and began without preamble, "Chu Rao, you are in charge of our soldiers, and now have the honor or attacking and distracting the Shining Force. Bulldor, let's just say we have a problem of remodeling."

The hefty man's eyes widened and he nodded and quickly turned and left the room. The old woman dismissed Chu Rao with a single glance.

As soon as he shut the door behind him Dava said silkily, "Kisaragi, would you be willing to discuss the possibility of an alliance with Mishalea?"

---

Kari smirked after getting rid of Bangar, who had stopped by to report to her. Now almost all of the factors of her plan were complete. She just had to do one more thing and then she could sit back and watch.

---

Zeon sat and asked, his voice echoing hollowly, "Tell me Geshp, what do you think of the cursed bitch and what she has told us?"

Geshp replied confidently, "She has told us truthfully of the Shining Force, but she has lied about her plans, hoping that we shall have many losses, by believing her."

"And her intention of bringing us here?"

Now Geshp replied what he believed to be the absolute truth, "She has lured us here to help destroy the Shining Force, but her ultimate goal is our destruction as well."

"Leave me."

The small devil was only too glad to be out of his volatile master's presence anyway.

Odd-eye stepped up and said coldly, "You be careful how many lies you tell Lord Zeon, or someday soon you and I will face each other, but only one of us will live."

"Do go on," Geshp urged blandly.

Odd-eye recognized the insult and finished coolly, "Watch your back Geshp, because your dreams of power haven't gone unnoticed."

Geshp sighed, and tried hard to control the bitter yearning for power, but envy licked his insides consuming him. Once long ago, he had been Zeon's favorite disciple, and he should be for he was the oldest of all of them.

For a long time, the only thing standing in the way of his schemes had been Odd-eye. Tangible, and intelligent, the powerful devil ruthlessly, pursued his task of catching Geshp in the act.

It was difficult, for a crude scheme would be immediately spotted, whereas a more subtle one would merely make Odd-eye certain that the plump little devil was behind it whether or not there was proof.

At long last he had a scheme that just might do it, and he had put it into operation. He finally realized that politics was Odd-eye's only vulnerable spot, and Zalbard lusted for power almost as much as Geshp did.

So Zalbard attacked Odd-eye, determined to win the game and even Cameela, was taking the chance of siding with Zalbard, and Odd-eye was losing favor with Zeon.

_Just a bit longer and it will all be mine. _

---

Ian settled down, after choosing his camp for the night carefully. He lit a large bonfire, as the signal that would alert the others to his presence, and they would come.

He was completely unaware of the interested gazes it was drawing.

---

Max strained his eyes, there was no doubt. It was a large fire. Only Mishalea's soldiers would be stupid enough to risk one out here.

He rolled back and muttered to the others, "We've got to go on, Mishalea's goons, are up there, and we have a score to settle."

There was no long talking or debating. Their own small fire was doused, everybody armed themselves up, and they ran forward.

---

Ian was half-dozing when he heard the sounds of approaching people, all around him. It was about time that they all got here.

He started to get up only to here the sound of a blade cutting through the air just above him.

He rolled back, but before he could reach his sword, the enemy's blade followed his movement.

This time the blade came down point first. Ian quickly jumped up and backward, then crouched and punched hard to his enemy's gut. His fist smacked into a hard, solid belt of muscle. The warrior was slightly slower though which gave Ian enough time pull out his blade.

He easily blocked the next swing, and then sliced directly at his opponent's head. The man dodged to the side, and Ian swung his blade forward, and then flipped it to his opposite hand completing the attack. He felt the sword eat into the flesh of this man's shoulder, but then the man whipped his sword up and thrust it at Ian's skull.

His blade went up to deflect the other sword, only to realize that the move had been a feint. Speed was the only thing that saved the swordmaster's life. For the first time, Ian realized that he was facing someone who was perhaps a match for him.

The two darted around exchanging, blows, feints, hacking, thrusting, parry, but neither could gain an advantage and hold it. They were both bleeding profusely from a dozen minor wounds.

The mystery man lunged forward, and Ian pulled his sword up in front of him blocking the blow, and again hearing the ring of steel against steel.

The two strained against each other, attempting to push past the other's guard. Ian felt the blade of his enemy slip just a fraction lower, and then faster than Ian managed to follow, he punched forward his hand still around the hilt of his blade.

Ian fell backward, half-stunned, and then he felt something heavy crash into his side and the world went black.

Consciousness was slow returning, but Ian was aware that his wounds were being treated. He heard a voice saying, "He's awake."

Ian opened his eyes and started into the dark ones from a lined face, perhaps fifteen years older than Ian. The man's hair was matted and red.

The man said calmly, "You don't work for Mishalea do you."

It was a statement, not a question.

The man continued, "I'm sorry for this misunderstanding, particularly because it got two of your friends killed. Well one anyway, but the other is dying, beyond the skill of our healers."

Ian breathed, "You're him aren't you?"

"Who?" was the cautious reply.

"Max."

The man paused and then nodded, taking the chance.

Ian sat up straight and said formally, "In that case, my name is Ian, and I'd like to propose an alliance."


	15. Chapter 15: Ambush

Chapter 15

Ambush

High Commander Lynx leaned back against the tree, waiting for the reports to come in. The man felt oddly at ease. Normally using such dishonorable and unfair tactics would make him feel appalled, but somehow it seemed the right thing to do tonight.

For a moment a scowl appeared on his admittedly handsome face. By the gods he would have to share credit for this victory with Eiku! Damn the whole thing to hell, it was obscene. Lynx hated the ambitious Eiku with so much passion that Mishalea herself had said it was almost holy.

He shifted uneasily and reminded himself that he was the one doing the fighting; the actual victory would be his. Eiku would almost be incidental in the glory of the assignment. Perhaps enough so to be overlooked? He immediately snorted, the idea was foolish. Mishalea richly rewarded everyone for their services, and Lynx grudgingly conceded that Eiku's feat was nothing less than extraordinary.

Gathering enough information to make this ambush possible… yes this was as much Eiku's victory as it was Lynx's. A smirk replaced the scowl as he knew that Eiku would hate the fact that their victory was joined at least as much as Lynx did, especially because Lynx got to have the most glory through leading the ambush.

His smirk deepened as the groups of archers all returned to report that the sentries had quietly been taken care of, and the camp was wide open.

"Remember," murmured Lynx, "Kill all but their leader Max. Take him prisoner, him and the jellyfish thing."

The soldiers needed little warning, he'd been drilling the notion into them every chance he got.

Lynx wondered to himself why it was necessary to capture Max. His mistress had already made it clear that the impudent jellyfish was to be made an example. She didn't need two examples, so what was she playing at?

Well it didn't really matter, soon victory would be theirs. Feeling oddly jumpy yet detached, he gave the order to move out, and he and his troops slipped into the camp of the Shining Force.

---

Max's eyes widened and he said in a carefully neutral voice, "An alliance?"

The young swordsman nodded and replied quietly, "Yes sir."

Max frowned, "Who did you say you were again?"

"My name is Ian."

It was like being slapped without provocation. Ian. Surely it was just coincidence. Surely this young man wasn't the ultimate legacy of Kane? Or was he? Now that Max studied him more carefully he could see certain resemblances. Yes, a touch about the jaw, a certain set about the head, the eyes were similar in shape, though they were dark, not grey.

Max said abruptly, "What are you doing in Rune? One, you have the mark of a swordmaster, and it seems to me highly unlikely that there would be one here out of Mishalea's control. Besides, you look like a Granserian, and I've never heard of a Granserian swordmaster."

"I'm looking for something," was the noncommittal reply.

"What?" Max prodded.

There was just the briefest moment of hesitation, then, "A man."

Max nearly lost his balance and demanded, "Where do you come from?"

"A port town named Hassan; I doubt you know of it. It's an obscure little place in-"

"In west Parmecia near the ancient desert," Max finished slowly.

"Ah. May I know how you know that?" When no reply was forthcoming, Ian asked pointedly, "May I at least see my friends?"

Max slowly shook his head for a moment looking like he was in a daze. There was a puzzled expression in his face. Then he blinked and asked, "What?"

Ian sighed and repeated, "May I see my friends? At least the ones you haven't killed," he added morosely.

Max paused for a moment and then said, "First I have a few more questions for you." His tone hardened slightly as he continued, "What have you been doing in Rune, what are you looking for, and yes I want details, and why do you want this alliance?" He left the rest unsaid, namely that he needn't give Ian anything if he so chose.

Ian nodded slightly, "Yes I suppose I do owe you some answer-"

Mae burst into the makeshift tent and snarled angrily, "Sir, I've just received some intelligence. The healer Slade, dressed up as a civilian, discovered rumors in a small village ten minutes east of here. The villagers spoke of a tall, well-spoken, handsome man who was reputedly working for sub-commander Eiku. This one," she spat pointing to Ian, "fits the description of the man perfectly, and furthermore, most of the villagers were awed by his performance with a sword, although one old man insisted he had only seen such skill twice before in his life, both times by a swordmaster, which we have proven," she made a vague gesture towards Ian, "him to be."

Max blinked and asked, "Slade? We lost contact with him, aye and Graham as well when they were about, scouting."

"Oh. Of course. You've been occupied. I suppose that I neglected to tell you that those two returned, with quite a tale to tell as well I should imagine. I went ahead and sent Slade out again and that was how we came by this." She practically spat the last part as she pointed at Ian.

Max's tone was mild. "I see. At any rate, now that you're here you can stay here. We'll see if this Ian as he calls himself can answer a few questions."

Ian sighed as though looking for a place to begin. Finally he propped himself up into a slightly more comfortable position, cleared his throat twice, and launched into his explanation.

"I know not where I was born, but when I was very young I was taken to the port town of Hassan, and it has been my home, as much as any place can be, and I suppose I think of myself as having been born there. I grew up in Hassan, and became quite talented with a sword and also made many good friends, who had also grown up in the place."

He nodded and continued, "The Elder of Hassan, whom I have always regarded as a father, often urged me to go and see the rest of Parmecia. 'A port town is no place to spend your entire life' was his common argument. The town however prospered, and many people visited there, and there was how I met the kage. As you know so much about swordmasters already I assume that you know a kage is one who trains them?"

There was no response from either the man, or the centaur, so Ian went on.

"In short, the kage was impressed with my ability with a sword, thought I had natural skill, and great potential. Because of this, he offered to train me; I was entranced with the idea from the start having seen the skill and ability that the kage had already displayed. My friends urged me to try it, and the Elder wanted me to try it as well. So I did, and after five years I became a swordmaster. I was proud, I had a life with meaning, I had accomplished something, but now I had time to brood on the subject of my birth. I had always been too busy whilst training with the kage to think about it and when I was younger I cared little about the matter. I knew already that I could not be fully Parmecian, my bone structure always looked exotic, compared to those around me, and there were other little indicators that I was at least not wholly Parmecian."

Ian took a breath and looked up at the two listeners, and saw the rapt attention in their faces.

"Go on," Max murmured intensely.

Ian sighed and continued, "After a while of digging around, and pondering this difficulty, I went to the Elder, and asked him. In return he told me a story that was well known among the people of Hassan, even my friends knew it, though they kept it from me. I never knew about the story on order of the Elder, but when I went to him, he knew that it was time to give me the truth. The tale went that, seventeen years ago a man came to the village of Hassan carrying in his arms a young infant, me. The man begged that Hassan would take in his only son, whose name was to be Ian. The Elder, asked when they could expect the return of the father, and he replied that he had no idea, but that it would be necessary to raise the child here." Ian lapsed into silence for a moment and then continued. "The Elder told me that the man was very nervous and eager to be moving on. The Elder wasn't in any great hurry, however, so before agreeing to anything he forced the man to sit at his table and drink his wine."

The young swordmaster chuckled morosely and went on, "Now that I look back on this I realize that the Elder must have known far more than he told because he was not surprised by such a turn of events at all, instead he seemed quite pleased. Anyway, the man hurried out only to be ambushed in Hassan's main square. It was a mage, and a group of soldiers. I'm told that the man put up a strong fight, slaying quite a few of the soldiers. I'm also told that the mage said to him as he was overpowered something about a long chase. The man, Kane, apparently was struggling fiercely, but the remaining soldiers held him firm while the mage opened an iron coffer that had a steel mask in it, with the face looking like a skull. The mage placed it over Kane's face, and the soldiers released him."

Ian took a deep breath then shrugged, "Kane then sneered and got up saying that it was time to go. I'm told that the Elder then came out and tried to stop them, wounding the mage mortally. Kane called on some sort of dark power which caused the Elder to fall back, badly crippled in one leg, and one arm was reputedly useless thereafter. The mage was then supposed to have begged Kane for help, although he now called Kane, Lord Kane instead. Kane basically sneered that he didn't carry cripples or bunglers, and killed the mage out right thereafter leaving Hassan, and that's what I learned."

Max slowly sat back down looking stunned, drained, and exhilarated, all at once. Mae glanced uneasily back at her leader, then turned furiously to Ian.

"You expect us to believe that? And even if we did would it change anything we already know about you?"

Ian started to answer only to be cut off by Max.

Eying Mae sternly he said, "I expect you to believe it."

Ian closed his mouth, and then opened it again. And then he closed it once more. Mae looked stunned.

Max continued, "It fits in with almost everything that I knew Mae." He paused and added more gently, "Everything I was told."

Ian asked interestedly, "You mean you know something about all of this?" The normally stoic mercenary sounded oddly hopeful.

Max said coolly, "Finish your story first."

Ian nodded, after all Max spoke from the position of strength.

He said wearily, "The upshot of that discussion was that I learned that I was mostly, if not completely Granserian."

"Mae," said Max excitedly, "Maybe we should find a way to speak with this Elder, he's likely to have ancient knowledge, and other things that would be usef-"

Ian broke in, "You can't do that, he's dead."

"What!?"

Ian nodded, "Not long after that conversation a bunch of monsters attacked the Ancient Shrine in the desert. I and several others of my friends went to repel the attack, but it was a setup. Mishalea killed the Elder; she had a man named Lynx with her. I crossed swords with him even, he was quite good. Anyway, she finished and tried to kill me; the Elder protected me and died instead. Thanks to the attack I also met Ruburan, a ninja. He used to be a thief but his gang was slaughtered by Mishalea save his friend Nosshu. And so anyway, we've been traveling to kill her ever since."

Mae cleared her throat, "And what about the rumors I described?"

Ian said quietly, "It's mostly true. I was scouting a few days ago and was captured at a fortress, by a servant of Eiku. He hired me to kill Max, so I let him see what he wanted to see, a greedy mercenary already knowing that if I got the chance I'd try to help Max whoever he was."

"But why did you betray Eiku? I'm sure he could've rewarded you with riches beyond your dreams."

"Because, he was just like all the officers that have pushed Granserians, down into the dirt centuries ago," said Ian showing more passion than he meant to. "When I was with Eiku, I saw something I never expected to see in my entire lifetime, I saw a great commander surrounded by soldiers, power, and money who was afraid of a single group who said no. A group that would not take the lash, a group that would not lie down and die, and I meant for him to know that as long as possible, to kill him for what he's done to me and my people. To punish him for his crimes."

There was a moments silence then Mae whispered in an awestruck voice, "You know, you do understand."

Ian asked pointedly, "Now have I answered all of your questions? You see I have some of my own."

Max had tears in his eyes as he pulled Ian up and embraced him, not at all the reaction that Ian seemed to be expecting.

"You _are_ Ian, my brother Kane's son."

---

The forces of Lynx crept through the camp quietly making their way towards the nearest tent. They would enter silently and kill whoever was there while the victim slept, as long as it wasn't Max or the jellyfish.

The perfect ambush, there was no foreseeable way it could fail. Except one. One of the archers lingering at the back of the group decided that the time had come to follow his orders. They were passing by a dying fire, with only embers left glowing.

Quickly the archer gave the soldier in front of him a brutal push. The man fell headlong into the embers and howled in agony, "Yeeargggggggggggh!"

The occupant of the tent they had been so stealthily creeping up poked his head out.

Old Gort wasted no time in roaring, "Ambush!"

The ancient dwarf gave a bellow of rage, furious at being ambushed in his own encampment. He seized his axe and flung himself outside, ready to kill.

There was immediate mayhem, as members of the Shining Force stumbled about only half-awake and as Lynx's troops were still taking a few precious seconds to adjust to the new situation.

Lynx felt as though a great weight had been taken off of his shoulders, now he would have his chance to defeat the Shining Force in a fair battle, now that his honor was not a stake.

Without losing a moment he shouted, "Go on, go at them while they're still disoriented. Come on; strike a blow lads, the honor is ours. Keep 'em separated and they'll die easy. Fight.

Lynx wasn't particularly worried, Mishalea had been over this with him, he could lose half of his force and still outnumber their enemies. The accepted worst estimates of losses were three quarters of Lynx's men. He strongly doubted even the Shining Force up and fighting could manage that.

Lynx heard a low growl behind him, "So we'll die easy will we?"

"Ah, you must be Gort. Mishalea will give me extra credit for killing you."

"See if'n you can manage it dirtbag!"

Lynx jabbed out his blade expertly, testing his opponent's defences, seeing where he was most vulnerable. Gort easily deflected the blade, and Lynx smiled, here was a real challenge.

Gort suddenly twirled his axe around, and sought to open the commander's side. Lynx jumped back a pace, then came up quickly and sent his blade in for a direct thrust. The dwarf pulled his axe back deflecting the blow in a shower of sparks, but Lynx had already pulled his blade around to the side. Gort's axe moved in for another block only to see the blade coming straight at him, Lynx had been feinting.

Lynx smirked certain that he had his enemy, only to feel a sharp pain in his knee as Gort kicked him. The man stumbled slightly and lost the thrust. As he regained his balance the old dwarf immediately swung his axe around.

Lynx was furious, in a moment of carelessness he had offered a free target to the dwarf and the blood gushing from his side was proof. In a fit of anger he drove one boot hard up into the dwarf's stomach and was rewarded with an opportunity to slash at his opponent's throat.

Gort quickly flung his shield down at his enemy's incoming sword. The round warrior shield neatly ricocheted off of the blade and upward, its keen edge slashing open Lynx's chin. Blood dribbled down his face as he reeled away, but Gort's cheek was wounded as well. The blade had gone off course when the shield had hit it, right into the old warrior's cheek.

He was about to press his advantage, when two soldiers ran up to him, thinking to distinguish themselves by killing the old dwarf. Twirling his axe expertly, Gort brought it up and around dispatching of one of the two immediately.

He turned and saw the other charging at him, thinking to finish him while he fought the other. He went directly in, and with one blow clove his enemy in two, in such a way that the dead soldier went bouncing backwards into Lynx.

Furious, the High Commander viciously flicked Gort's shield back at him and it slammed into his left arm with a satisfying crunch. Gort hissed at the pain as his arm went numb, but ran forward. Lynx, colder now, and less overconfident jabbed his blade forward faster than Gort could follow. The old dwarf gave a cry of anguish as the blade viciously bit into his axe hand.

As Gort moved to try and block the next sword thrust, Lynx's boot came up again driving brutally into his face. Gort felt his nose break, and the whole of his face burned with pain. Gushing blood the dwarf leapt up, and came down his axe transfixed in Lynx's lower leg. Ripping it out the dwarf spat a broken tooth at the High Commander, whose face was a frozen mask of agony. Still unsatisfied the enraged warrior flung himself forward and started clawing at Lynx. The man stumbled backwards, bloody furrows in his sides, and Gort with a growl of primal rage brought his axe down hard on Lynx's boot.

With a scream of pain Lynx fell back another step. Gort flung his axe down and bulled forward, all rational thought erased from his mind, living only to slay his opponent.

---

Ian blinked slowly and fell backwards. His mouth moved, but no sound came out of it. This was more than he had ever expected. His throat felt tight, dry.

With difficulty he cleared his throat and asked hoarsely, "Uncle?"

Max laughed out loud. "Yes, yes by the gods… I really am an Uncle."

Ian, feeling as if he had drunk too much wine, looked up and demanded eagerly, "Kane… where's Kane?"

The warrior's face lost its happiness and Ian knew what he was going to say even before the word left his mouth, "Dead."

Ian sighed… it was a blow yes, but the Elder had been his father in the ways that mattered; he had never known his sire. It wasn't as though he had lost anything he hadn't already lost.

Ian said dully, "My friends?"

Max hesitated a moment then nodded briskly, "Of course."

Mae looked sympathetically at him as though she understood everything. Ian ignored her.

As Ian walked, on slightly shaky legs truth be told, he caught a glance of all of his friends huddled together under guard and without their weapons.

Hawel was protesting loudly, "It's a book of knowledge, what d'you think I'm going to try and cast a spell or something? Really the whole subject is fascinating."

Guntz stolidly shook his head and said heatedly, "Look, you've been going on about this for the last half hour. The answer is no, and it's going to stay that way until the boss changes his orders."

Sonnete sighed, "Hawel, as cute as you can be when the academic in you is roused, right now it's just tedious so why don't you… Ian," she called catching sight of him. "Ian, have you managed to negotiate with them, is that why you're free?"

Ian chuckled to his companions, "Mates, meet my Uncle Max here." He made sure to keep an absolutely straight face; it was quite amusing to watch the looks on all of the faces of his friends.

"Wha... wha… WHAT?" shouted Sonnete.

Ian continued, "We're going to be joining up with this group," he sighed as he dropped the joking and said honestly, "As they are fighting a war against Mishalea."

Mead paused then sighed, "I don't think I'm going to try and understand this one… but Ian you should know… Koujiro is dead… and Ridion is dying."

Ian blinked and asked, "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Max started to shake his head when there was a cry, "Wait!"

Slade the healer ran up and said breathlessly, "There might be something though I don't know if it'll work."

He pulled out a flask and said, "This restores life I think, there's a little of it left, it might work."

Ian said decisively, "Let's try it."

A handsome, bored looking young man walked over and said disdainfully, "Try not to take all day to get moving again will you? What is the delay now, may I inquire?"

Max replied tersely, "These people are now our allies, we're trying to cure the old dwarf."

"Oh, well if you must sink to your own level and hire dirty mercenaries…"

With a meaningful smirk the young man strutted away as Ian eyed him coolly.

As soon as he was out of earshot Ian asked bluntly, "Who shoved something up his ass?"

Max said, "He's an aristocrat."

"Ah."

The two went to where Ridion lay looking beaten down.

The dwarf muttered, "Lousy elf… I'll have you yet."

Nervously Slade opened the dwarf's mouth and tipped the last of the drink from the flask down his throat.

Ridion flung himself up and howling, "Arghhhhhhh, what 'it me?"

---

Yeesha awoke a sword at her throat. She froze momentarily frightened. The leader of the ten who had come to kill her murmured, "Ah now, you're a pretty little girl why don't you just come with us…"

Yeesha did her best to look uncertain, while one of her hands kept tracing the symbols.

"Come on," the armed man ordered.

She fluttered her lashes and said, "Well then, accept a gift."

"Now you're talking sense…"

"BOLT."

The blast of lightning released itself, immediately killing off seven of the men. Yeesha quickly followed up with a freeze spell killing off two more, but leaving the leader behind.

"I'll kill you for that woman!"

He lunged forward his blade swinging in a deadly arc towards the mage's unprotected neck.

Then there was a sound like the squashing of overripe fruit and the man sagged down, lifeless. Behind him was the monk Luke.

Outside was a realm of chaos. Soldiers attacking their enemies and themselves indiscriminately. Shade and Hans both kept themselves concealed, sniping soldiers and smiling with grim satisfaction when an arrow hit its mark. The soldiers still held the upper hand though, and as soon as they were organized it would mean total destruction for the Shining Force through sheer numbers.

The only hope was to keep the ambush force off balance, and then perhaps they could turn defeat into victory.

Domingo flew out of his tent, and got an idea. He paused concentrating fiercely so that the magic was assured of working, and cast his spell.

Immediately right in the middle of the yelling troops formed a crystallized, ice floor. The clumsy soldiers started slipping up, and sliding around, offering easy targets.

Domingo flew forward, only to feel a sharp pain and look in amazement at the arrow protruding from just above his left eye. The magical jellyfish decided that it was time for some constructive cowardice and concealed himself in a tree.

Deanna fought like a man in the throes of madness. Nothing, no injury, no skill, nothing could defeat his wild attack. Slicing, shearing, cleaving, hacking, slashing, he created a fine display using all the skills he knew.

Then he overcommitted a thrust, and fell wounded by two swift dagger strikes. He looked up, prepared for the inevitable, and saw fire.

Natasha had rushed over and created a ring of fire, protecting them both and burning the enemy's, until it exhausted the young mage. Fire.

Out in the woods, two archers were sniggering to themselves.

"Aye, mate. Better to stay ere' rather 'n goin' ter get killed off like some of our mates."

"Yeah, we'll just mingle back in with the others, an' tell our story. Hehe, we'll probably be made Generals."

"Right, now where'd I put that wi- ARGHHHHHHH!"

The other archer turned to his companion and saw his broken body smashed against a tree. Instinctively the man half-turned only to feel pain in his belly. Looking up he saw a golden-haired centaur who snarled, "Die and suffer for what you've done."

The centaur turned away, and walked three paces before collapsing. The archer lay, dying as his own organs poisoned him. It was a horrible death.

---

"What," yelled Eiku. Only moments before the sub-commander had been in good spirits reflecting how hard Lynx was about to fall. He had set one of his own men in Lynx's ambush so that the whole incident would turn into a typical bloodbath. This however erased all such thoughts from his mind.

"You're saying," he snarled, "That two prisoners managed to take an entire fortress _by themselves_!"

Cellion winced, it was not a question.

He quickly responded, "They must have had an accomplice sir, someone who set up the business to draw my men ou-"

"Your men shouldn't have gone dammit and you're suggesting that three, _three _men should be enough to take an entire fortress and kill over half of your soldiers!"

Cellion swallowed his words and looked away. What was there to be said after all? He doubted anyone in the entire army had ever been as disgraced as he was now. By the gods how he hated these savages. With one blow they had completely destroyed his career. He'd kill them all given half the chance.

Eiku said coldly, "You may go."

The sub-commander sank down feeling sick. How could he keep these losses a secret, or at least do the next best thing and shift the blame to someone else? Yes this could change things for him completely if the incident became common knowledge. What to do?

---

The rescue party, now bolstered up with Ian's friends was moving back to the camp of the Shining Force.

Max sighed, and started his own story to Ian. The man had a right to know.

"As you can see I'm Granserian by birth. I never knew my mother well. In fact when Kane and I were very young she started to take us away somewhere, and I don't know what did it but she was killed. To this day I can see my mother's blood raining down. Kane and I survived on our own in the wilds for years until making our way to Rune. That was eighteen years ago. While there, I started training in Guardiana, and Kane became a Lord of Runefaust. Three years ago Runefaust started a war with Guardiana."

He paused for a moment then continued. "I… we could only assume that King Ramaladu had gone completely insane, there seemed no reason for the war. Anyway he set one of his generals, Balbazak the Beastly to attack the northern reaches of our lands, and General Elliot to attack the southern half. My mentor, Lord Varios, mobilized the Guardiana army including myself and my friends. After a few months we had an ultimate confrontation with Balbazak. I remember I rushed up to him ready to make the kill, but he cried out that his sword was broken; would an honorable warrior set upon him with such an advantage? So I threw down my sword and he seized me, pulling out a dagger and was about to gut me when Varios rode in just in time and killed him. After the battle we had a long discussion about the nature of evil and Balbazak."

Max could still remember that sad, subdued conversation had been the last time he had spoken with his mentor.

"Anyway," he said clearing his throat, "Soon after Galm the Vandal appeared and killed the King and Varios… the strange thing is he left a sword behind. The Chaos Breaker which is what I now wield. The war in the south… well Elliot fought honorably and never participated in any butchery until he was defeated in combat. No one knows what happened to him after that. We had learned that Kane was a supporter of the war, so I went to fight him hoping to knock him out without injuring him and learning why he condoned this war. I fought him and using the powers of the Chaos Breaker I shattered a mask that he wore, undoubtedly the one that the mage put on him in Hassan. After he came to his senses he was furious at being duped by Ramaladu and made it his personal mission to finish this. He went and battled Ramaladu, but Ramaladu had ancient machines, a lazer eye and a robot called Chaos. Kane managed to use this to his advantage and lured Chaos in the range of the lazer eye and when Chaos was attacked by the automated Lazer Eye, Chaos, as programmed, attacked the Lazer Eye. The ensuing explosion mortally wounded Ramaladu, how we learned that the entire war had been a power play of Mishalea's.

"Runefaust is now in chaos with nobody to take control of the kingdom. The steward, Mahato was assassinated by Mishalea, Kane went off for atonement and there is no clear heir to the throne. That's really the story… it's why we started this war with Mishalea."

Claude the birdman flew back crying, "Max, the Shining Force is being attacked, they're in the midst of battle, and they're losing, we've got to help."

"Come on," roared Max, "Let's turn the tide."

---

Lynx stood over Gort, badly wounded, but victorious.

"Now you die dwarf," he said coldly.

"Not until you face me, scum."

Lynx wheeled around and saw Max approaching. The commander paused; he couldn't fight, not in this condition. The man came to a sudden decision.

Max said lightly, "My new forces have surprise attacked and wiped out most of your troops Lynx; even now they're fighting for their lives."

Lynx sagged, then straightened up and threw a dagger at Max's head. With a yelp of surprise the swordman flung himself to the ground which was all Lynx needed. Quickly he rubbed a sedative onto his blade and leapt forward knowing that all he needed was just one little prick and he would win.

"NO!" screamed another voice. Lynx half-turned only to feel something seizing onto his cloak and he was flung up against a tree. Partially stunned he stared up in shocked recognition of Ian's face.

The swordmaster said icily, "It's over Lynx."

"Ian, look out," Max shouted.

On instinct Ian pulled into a defensive posture as he turned and caught sight of a gray cloaked mage. The mage's staff was glowing and he pointed it at Lynx. The man vanished.

Ian turned as he lashed out with his sword. It bit into the mage's shoulder and left blood oozing out even as the force of the blow flung the opponent against the ground. Ian followed with a quick kick to the mage's skull knocking it out.

Max put his hand on Ian's arm, "At least we drove them off."


	16. Chapter 16: Plots

Chapter 16:

Plots

High Commander Lynx stood in the middle of Mishalea's shrine, his back to the ancient statue as he made his report. There had been mixed reactions to his appearance, and, at least as far as Mishalea was concerned, there was good reason for it. He looked filthy and bedraggled as though he had just been through a war.

Lynx concluded the report by saying, "And then despite our heavy losses we had them until Max, with the team that rescued him and some others, whom I'm assuming are mercenaries, arrived and attacked. They wiped out the rest of my forces, and except for the loyalty of the mage I wouldn't have survived it either."

The mocking taunt came back almost immediately, "Well lack a season and lose a day, these are the results that the high and mighty Commander Lynx brings back to us. Worthless bungler." Eiku smirked at him.

Lynx shot back, "It would have worked perfectly if one of the soldiers hadn't cried out I tell you. As it was I barely got away."

Eiku sneered, "Tell us what it really was you coward!"

Lynx opened his mouth for a retort but Mishalea shouted, "Enough!"

She glared, moved to a rare display of temper by her continuously quarreling officers. Her eyes blazed with anger, and her lip curled with scarcely concealed contempt. She switched her attention to Warderer.

"And what are you smirking at? Need I remind you yet again that each time we fail it hurts all of us?"

_All your talent gone to Iom, Warderer. What a waste._

Warderer shrugged, "The armies of Iom are not at fault, we have done everything required of us, and this ambush was _your_ idea my lady."

Mishalea's cold gaze slowly went round the room lingering on each person in turn and then she said in a controlled tone, "Of course it is not your fault Lord Warderer, I forgot myself for a moment, however, I suppose that all of you should… be as… meticulous as High Commander Lynx and make your reports… I think it should be very interesting. As you seem to be ready anyway Lord Warderer, let's start with you, what's the state of your army?"

The disciple of Iom shifted uncomfortably. Mishalea smiled at him. Oh yes, she knew that he knew that she knew.

He lied smoothly, "Our army is in perfect condition holding the country of Cypress at bay quite easily. We have of course had a lack of action in the field, but as we have been concerned with important matters…"

He let the implication dangle as he continued, "Hindle, Barbara, Solo, tell the Lady what you have been up to recently."

Barbara was the first to speak, a trifle impatient sounding, "Nothing! There has been nothing to do. My armies wait for action, and we get none!"

Solo shrugged his shoulders disdainfully, "I'm continuing the work on the fortress Alshar, when it is complete I'll be ready to begin hit and run tactics."

Hindle said nothing.

Mishalea prodded, "Well?"

Hindle said almost contemptuously, "I have been doing what I must."

Mishalea glared at him and said tightly, "Could you perhaps be a bit more specific?"

Hindle laughed suddenly, tossed back his head and laughed. His whole body shook with laughter. Mishalea looked at him with extreme distaste. Zeon seemed a bit confused. Even Warderer was off-balance. The King of Iom looked at the others helplessly, but said nothing, for what was there after all to be said?

Mishalea turned her back on the group and gazed steadily at Death Wodol.

_Every time I tell myself I must keep an eye on that one. And yet… and yet it seems never to happen. What do you want Woldol?_

The one-time ambassador stared straight back at her, his eyes dead, cold, frozen, unfeeling.

Finally he croaked, "You know what we have been doing."

Mishalea risked a question.

"What of your officers, they never say anything? Do you speak for all of them?"

Death Wodol's lip curled but he replied, "They have nothing to say that I cannot, but for the peace of your mind I shall inform you of their activities. King Edmond has done what he has always done, and that is to be King. Gepple has seen to the might of our undead army. Frabell has sought all glory for herself, and Bazoo has made the military plans as well as taking on the necessary tasks that unfortunately are a little… distasteful."

Mishalea paused for a moment and considered the situation. Not for a minute would she believe what she had just been told, but there had been an undeniable undercurrent of truth in Death Wodol's words. She decided to let it go, but made a mental note to herself to watch the group more closely in the future unlikely though it seemed. Woldol… She pushed the consideration to the back of her mind.

_Later_.

Yet again she paused unsure who would be best to try and some information from next, and after a minute of indecision, she made up her mind and looked expectantly at Zeon.

The King of the Devils rumbled out, "We have not yet been called on to make a move, but when we are I think you can expect us to have a little more to report than complete failure."

Mishalea's lips twitched. She resented that. But all the same she didn't rise to the bait. She wouldn't give Zeon that sort of satisfaction. And anyway, she had always prided herself on her courtesy. In order to lead anything, anyone, then one had to be able to treat with others, to be courteous when circumstances required it. She was not so different from Lord Max. He, too, doubtless had to treat. He believed in his cause, in justice.

_You had no right to judge me, Max._ Angrily, she brushed the thought away. Max was nothing to her, or his rejection of her, nor even his escape. He was a concern. He was part of pure, focused, skilled work.

Geshp broke in quickly, "It seems to me that the best way to destroy the Shining Force is for them to do it themselves."

Mishalea raised a brow and asked the obvious question, "You mean a traitor?"

Geshp replied, "Well that would be a solution and quite a tidy one at that, but as it seems that even you have not learned much of the psychology of most of our enemies that it would perhaps be a little to complicated and even messy."

Mishalea tried another suggestion, "You mean to lure them into a trap then?"

"Again, no and again, that would work if the circumstances were a little different."

The Lady of Darkness began to enjoy the careful fencing, and was more than she would have cared to admit, intrigued by the plump little devil. Here was someone with whom she was perfectly suited. Intelligent, greedy, ambitious, ruthless, and above all careful. This time instead of saying anything she waited for him to continue.

"At any rate, I think that so far a large part of their success has been their unity and-"

Cameela muttered under her breath, "Obviously."

Geshp shot her a somewhat offended look before continuing. "Anyway, we have given them a common cause. What if they lose that cause? I think that then it would be a very simple matter for them to fall apart, and fall at each others throats. They could probably destroy themselves, far more efficiently and thoroughly than we ever could."

Mishalea's breath caught in her throat. The plan was diabolically simple, and brilliantly cunning. It was then for the first time perhaps that she began to understand why Zeon kept and relied upon him as an advisor as he did.

Warderer whistled and his eyes widened in amazement. Wodol slowly nodded. Her own officers looked fascinated by the idea, and even amongst Zeon's own ranks Geshp's compatriots seemed suitably impressed.

The only person, who did not seem particularly interested, amazed, or even jealous was Sir Odd-Eye.

He said in a cool, even bored tone, "How interesting."

Geshp looked at him in a slightly injured manner.

Odd-Eye said dryly, "And you are going to take the common cause away by yourself? How remarkable."

Geshp flushed and lowered his head slightly.

Mishalea asked innocently, "And what brilliant ideas have you come up with recently Lord Odd-Eye?"

The Greater Devil looked at her and then he murmured, "One or two."

Mishalea waited for an answer. She didn't get one.

Suddenly she sounded much more like herself as she eyed Cameela and Zalabard. She wasn't going to even bother with Red Baron. The man was pure brute force; he had probably no free will of his own at all.

The two devils said nothing.

Mishalea nodded to herself, satisfied. Again she had brought the devils into the conversation as much to gauge them a second time as to listen to whatever good ideas they might have.

"And do you have anything to share with us Rilix?"

She kept her tone respectful, as she always did when addressing the Vandal. There were some people that were just so powerful that you didn't risk offending them unless you were certain that you could protect yourself. Rilix fell into that category.

The Inferior Vandal floated closer in her sedan chair, creating an admittedly chilling effect.

She said crisply, "I'm having some trouble with my crystal again; unfortunately I cannot even call up an image of the Shining Force. Either they realized that I'd broken through their defenses or more likely since their leader got back they have had the time to devote themselves to smaller things such as adjusting magical blocks and so on."

"Damn," muttered Mishalea.

Warderer sighed slightly. The news was after all a bit discouraging. Mishalea turned back to her own officers and said, "I believe that you, Eiku, had something you particularly wanted to report?"

The Sub-Commander stood up and said, though she noted that his face looked strained, "Yes, I'm afraid I have something absolutely terrible to report. Not quite so serious and losing the ambush of course, but still very distressing."

Lynx asked coldly, "Would you stop dancing around and-"

Eiku interrupted, "Come to the point?" Well Commander, as you don't want the details as to the nature of the problem then certainly I wish to talk about the problem itself. The fortress that you ordered me to set up and report on local information I am sorry to admit has lost the majority of its garrison."

"What!?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so Commander. You see I actually have a witness whom, I believe, can shed some light on the situation."

Mishalea said urgently, "Well then call him in. I want this cleared up now."

Eiku nodded slightly and opened the door to the shrine, and, looking much the worse for wear, came in the leader of the lizardmen, Slit.

Mishalea's face registered no surprise, although she was a bit startled that the witness Eiku was relying on was a stupid lizardman.

She began with preamble, "You are…?"

"My name is Slit Lady."

"Well then Slit, tell us all about what happened at the fortress you were stationed at."

"Great Lady, all vas going vell at se fortress, but sen ve got orders to send out at least half of our garrison to support High Commander Lynx's ambush, but if ve could spare more ve vere to do so. In accordance to sese orders, ve sent three-quarters of our forces as ve did not feel that we would need sem for se moment. Unfortunately, soon after we sent them out ve vas ambushed ourselves and almost all of everybody vas killed. Our ambush forces were also killed by others, and now we have no hold in sat area. It seems sat ve vere tricked by se Commander, or somevone who knew his handwriting. Sat is all Great Lady."

Lynx's features were frozen in shock. Well, no wonder. The case against him wasn't perfect, in fact it was almost childish in its simplicity, but it was enough to pin it on him definitively.

Mishalea said in a slow, deliberate voice, "Well… you may go, Slit. I'll… speak with Commander Lynx at greater length about this." The lizardman rose, bowed stiffly, and left the shrine.

The dark elf did not actually believe that Lynx was behind the disastrous losses, but she did intend to speak with him about it. She was certain that in some way or other he would be able to have a very good idea of what really was the cause of the problem.

Mishalea, noting that Eiku looked distracted chose to break in on his thoughts with the obvious question.

"Do you have anything else to report?"

Standing up straight Eiku said, "I'd like to introduce someone who, due to the disastrous losses at the outpost, is most eager to prove himself: Captain Cellion."

Mishalea studied the archer for a moment and would have concluded that he was no different from any of the minor officers in her ranks, when something stopped her. She looked closer and sensed something cold, dark, resistant, about the man. For what seemed like a very long time she stared at the officer.

Mishalea did not like being frightened, but there was something about this one that was frightening. Of course, she reflected in an attempt to discredit the worry, the effect was rather heightened by his badly set nose.

Slowly she turned her eyes away and focused them on the least of her worries, Magus.

He guffawed a bit nervously and the gulped and shook his head. Mishalea ignored him and said, "Well then it seems that we have little else to discuss for the moment."

Her dismissal was clear and Zeon was the first to leave. As if it had been a silent signal all of the rest filed out after him.

Mishalea reflected to herself about the meeting. She needed answers for many things but one in particular… the idea suddenly struck her outright. Trembling slightly from excitement she took the necklace of darkness off and studied it carefully. It was then that she realized. She laughed out loud in her success. Now all she needed to do was to find a way to tap this energy and…

She smiled and allowed her thoughts to turn to other matters. At any rate she was glad that she had already heard Bangar and Gwaid's reports before the more general meeting. Truth to tell, she was slightly unbalanced by the recent developments. She had even broken her own rule; the council meeting had been far too systematic and controlled. Lynx's utter failure had thrown her completely off balance though, and for the moment her quiver was empty. She had cherished high hopes on Eiku's ambush, but the Shining Force had found a way to spit on her. Well, there was nothing new in that.

Paezorta of course was extremely busy with other matters. Bangar had started it seemed by ensorcelling the water in Mishalea's own domains promising to gradually spread out farther. Gwaid had taken command of a small division planning to make it a group of elite soldiers under his own command.

Nodding in satisfaction Mishalea rose from the table and made her way to the door. She was halfway there when some dark shape dropped down behind her and pressed a sharp blade to her throat.

This one was very good. She had never even noticed until it was too late.

She heard the other say, "Don't move if you want to live."

Mishalea noted that the voice was womanly and then asked softly, "Considering the circumstances why would you want me to live?"

The woman replied, "Ah now that is a very interesting question. Suffice it to say that my mistress shares a certain problem with you."

Mishalea couldn't imagine what it would be. "What?"

"Its name is Max."

Gently Mishalea edged away from the other woman, and when no resistance was made to her maneuver she turned to face her.

She said, "Yes, I see that we have much to discuss. Please won't you s-" She paused for a moment and then asked, "May I know your name?"

The woman grinned at her and said, "Kisaragi."

Mishalea gestured courteously towards a chair. "Kisaragi, let us sit and discuss things in a civilized fashion."

---

Lord Solo stood and surveyed the work being put into the fortress Alshar. He approached the leader of the Nar, a group fanatically loyal to him.

"How is the work proceeding, Harkan?"

"Well Lord if the weather was cooler and we had more workers…"

To his surprise Solo laughed, "Excellent, have the workers proceed as slowly as possible without making it conspicuous that we're delaying."

"May I ask why, my lord?"

"Let's just say that it's one of many steps to be taken towards our ultimate goal."

---

Zeon slowly looked around the room viewing all of the Greater Devils in turn. He was not impressed with either Odd-Eye or Geshp. No, he felt that both of them had become lazy, complacent. It was a disappointment. However, the habits of several thousand years are hard to shake, and so he found himself automatically relying on the both of them for advice.

Geshp said smoothly, "I believe that the answer to the problem of the Shining Force is much more easily solved than I suggested to Mishalea. They are still licking their wounds. If we take a little bit of time to prepare now, they still won't be ready for us. To be certain of succeeding I suggest that we send out bold Sir Odd-Eye to finish them."

Odd-Eye fixed Geshp with a cold stare. Well, Odd-Eye had a point after all. Geshp's suggestion was good. Even more than that, Odd-Eye had no reasonable protest to such a suggestion.

Geshp probably didn't believe that the situation was that simple. Zeon knew his scheming advisor well enough to know that. The confusing factor was; what did Geshp hope to gain out of it? Finishing the Shining Force would be handing a reprieve to Mishalea on a silver platter, and furthermore they wouldn't be able to kill or weaken Odd-Eye significantly. Or would they?

"I have a better idea."

Geshp's smirk went out like a light. The speaker was Zalbard.

Geshp hissed at him, "What are you doing you ignoramus? We made this plan together."

_Zalbard! So that's what it is…_

Zalbard muttered, "I just changed the plan."

Straightening up and well aware that he had the attention of all of the others the cunning Greater Devil said simply, "You should send me."

Zeon looked a bit confused.

Zalbard explained, "The hood renders me invulnerable. With it I can easily deal with those baboons."

Zeon was secretly impressed. Particularly seeing that the idea had come from Zalbard.

The King of the Devils snarled, "It's a good plan, and we're making use of it. I'm counting on you Zalbard. Geshp… Odd-Eye. I'm afraid that the two of you have disappointed me deeply. I'm hereby rescinding rank on all of you. Anyone who distinguishes themselves suitably will receive an immediate promotion. Now leave me."

He smiled coldly at the varied reactions of his commanders. That was one for them. Cameela was sputtering furiously. She had been hoping to make a good move herself, but Zalbard had beaten her to it, Zalbard. If that wasn't the source of her rage then Zeon would drown himself in a cask of red. The day he couldn't gauge Cameela's reaction was the day he lost faith in the order of the universe.

Red Baron of course had no reaction at all. Rank doesn't mean all that much to a controlled soldier.

If Cameela had been angry then Geshp was in what could best be described as a towering fury. He couldn't believe how neatly he had outmaneuvered himself. He had lost to Zalbard too. That stung, that touched a nerve.

_Has no one ever taught you that, Geshp? Cunning you might be, but don't hand someone a sword unless you're sure of where they're going to point it. _

Odd-Eye didn't seem to care particularly one way or the other. Indeed, he seemed almost amused by the entire transaction.

He murmured under his breath, "I wonder Zalbard, are you really ready for such dangerous games?"

---

Baron the greater spirit floated laconically around the ancient quarry. He didn't need to ask how the work was progressing. He could see for himself. Whimsically he floated over and began working in one of the rougher areas. It amused him.

---

Chu Rao was thinking furiously. He had the entire army of Dava at his command with which to destroy the Shining Force. The problem was he couldn't think up a strategy that satisfied him. He surveyed the army for a moment and came to a decision. Of sorts.

"Listen up you idle scum, we march."

---

Dava was considering her position. Bulldor of course would be gone for some time, but that was not a major concern at the moment. He knew what to do. Kisaragi was busy cementing an alliance with Mishalea, and Chu Rao controlled the army.

What else would she need to do while she waited for Baron to finish the excavation? It was difficult to say what the greatest threat to her was right now. Slowly she took out her focus gem. She was going to channel a spirit.

---

The King of Alterone slowly paced about his bed chambers. Slowly he was beginning to see what had to be done. He had been loyal… but what of it? How had it saved the people? Now in his darkest hour… he knew what he would do.

---

Frabell the paladin was plotting. She had always, as Death Wodol had said to Mishalea, had a longing for power and glory. She was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with her lot in the scheme of things. After all with the chaos that was sweeping up the entire world raging and spinning out of control into a war between two powers that hated each other so fiercely that no outsider could truly understand it, all of the players were going for the highest stakes. Why not her? Surely she was more suitable than any of the others to rule. So she had started making her own plans, but she needed an ally that much was certain. Unexpectedly the ally had come to her. It was Bazoo, the dangerous and unpredictable undead wizard.

He said calmly, "Well now Frabell. We know where we are, so to business. You and I share a common interest. I say that we let the others worry about the Shining Force and that we work on them ourselves. Strike out in the ranks of Iom secretly. Once Warderer is sufficiently weakened one of the others will strike out at him, they're all opportunists and this will complicate the war, make it more dangerous. We will arrive on top though after they all kill each other. What do you say?"

Frabell hesitated a moment thinking up her reply carefully. Finally she said, "Agreed."

Bazoo smiled, "We'll come out and rule together the pair of us."

The wizard then got up and left quickly. Frabell thought to herself, _He thinks that just because he's old that makes him smart. Well I'm younger than him, and smarter by a fair stretch. We'll see who ends up ruling the world._

---

Bazoo stood in front of King Edmond. The pitiful man asked anxiously, "Well what's Frabell up to? Is she plotting against me?"

Bazoo had his carefully prepared answer ready. "Not against you my lord. At the moment she seeks only to slay Death Wodol and Warderer. However, eventually she will want to finish all of us. For the time being however it might be beneficial to allow her plan to proceed. She could rid the two of us a couple of nasty foes."

Edmond lightly put a hand on the wizard's shoulder, "Of course my faithful friend. Together we can manage Frabell and anything else that is thrown at us. You'll see. Eventually it will just be you and me, ruling the world together."

For a long moment he stood there, feeling sickened by Edmond. Bazoo remembered Edmond as he had been, when he had first offered to ally himself with Iom and make his bid for the Cyprian Throne. Powerful, energetic, quite intelligent though not intellectual, dashing, and bold. To see him reduced to this…

The wizard bowed dutifully and quietly left. He smirked to himself. Frabell would suspect a trick, but he could handle her and Edmond was already wrapped around his finger neatly, and efficiently. Gepple however was becoming a serious worry in the double-dealing wizard's mind. He knew that he could never fool him as easily as Frabell or Edmond. Nor did he know what he was up to… He would have to deal with the threat soon.

---

Gepple was busily making his own plans. He soon realized that his compatriots would not be much of a problem, except for Bazoo and Death Wodol. Nor was he worried about the rest of Iom. He wasn't afraid of fools like Solo and Barbara. Hindle might be a problem he conceded and Warderer if only because of the amount of power that he wielded, but the others? No. That left the rest for him to judge and he wasn't sure about them. He was fairly certain he could deal with Eiku at least when the time came, but Mishalea picked her officers shrewdly. Then there was the matter of the Greater Devils… that would be a bit of a difficulty.

After some more thought the spy decided that for the moment it would pay the most to be loyal to Mishalea. He smiled briefly. For the moment.

---

Eiku said to Cellion, "I want as much information as possible about the Shining Force, and particularly about these mercenaries. It seems a very convenient time for them to appear on the scene. Go."

Cellion bowed deferentially and left. Eiku grinned momentarily. He had known what a useful tool the bitterly disappointed Cellion would make as soon as he managed to clean up the mess at the fortress. His thoughts went to Slit. The lizardman was surprisingly intelligent, and that gave him another edge. For the moment however… he would make no moves. He'd have to wait for a bit, at least until he was rid of Max, before finally succeeding where he had failed so many times over the years by destroying Lynx.

He still silently exulted. His scheme to use Slit and blame Lynx for the loss of Cellion's garrison… Well it had been and bold move and far from an assured victory. Slit had pleasantly surprised him, however. The lizardman had proven much more intelligent than he would have expected and Slit's panic over the possibility of being blamed had made him amenable to Eiku's deception. Now of course, he would have to find some suitable reward for the lizardman. Eiku well understood the need of generously compensating loyalty; Cellion would be his forever now. And Slit would be duly grateful. Leader of the lizardmen wasn't much of a boast; he'd find a high position for his new ally. And that left Max and Lynx again.

A frown creased his features as he muttered testily to himself, "How long are you going to take swordmaster?"

---

Rilix called softly, "Elise, Elise…"

After a few moments a woman with white hair, a brown cloak and red body armor appeared. One hand rested lightly on a sword and she was young and beautiful looking.

She said politely, "You called?"

Rilix nodded and immediately replied, "Paezorta's nearing it."

"Ah."

There was a silence then both figures nodded. Elise bowed her head gracefully and vanished. Rilix continued thinking.

---

Hindel's face was set. He had committed himself he knew and yet… his heart felt lighter. As though he had lifted a great weight from his shoulders and could at last feel happy again.

He realized, _I should have done this, years ago._ His eyes flickered to the prostrate figure in front of him and he marveled that a person he had so dismissed should have been able to unintentionally give him such a gift. For he knew now that he meant to reach out and at least cause the anguish that he had known. He had known as soon as he had found this precious tool that he would strike back… the he would have revenge. It was all he had left to live for.

The knight realized that, to his surprise, he was chuckling. He threw back his head and he laughed with the pure enjoyment that he had out of being alive. The pure enjoyment that he got from his thoughts.

_Oh yes, I have everything to fight for now. _

---

Kari slowly paced back and forth. Finally she said, "And that's all that you know?"

Bangar spread his hands looking disgustingly helpless. Kari's lip curled derisively and she turned her back on the reptile and faced Gwaid asking the question in silence.

Gwaid said, "Well… it would appear that your instincts are right. Max is more dangerous than we credited him as being, but…"

Kari sighed and thought almost wryly at the helplessness of the situation. Yes an alliance like this was doomed from the very start. All factions of darkness… hardly any of them could see beyond their noses. The ruthless ambition and cold-blooded greed was such a double-edged sword.

She said, "In this case we may have to become more involved in the matter. Listen carefully and I'll tell you what to do…"

---

Barbara had thought and thought, but she couldn't think of a strategy that satisfied her. Unlike the others she didn't think so much towards her own ends, but rather thought towards the good of the army. Being a soldier, a disciplined general of the Iom Empire had given her a different sort of shrewdness and maturity compared to the others around her.

She recognized the obvious dangers in having Solo around, but Lord Warderer didn't seem to think that he was a significant threat. It was infuriating. The only other solution was assassination, and that Lord Warderer would be able to track back to her right away.

Yes it was a tricky business, aside from her own personal dislike of assassinations, the idea was simply too risky. She needed a better solution. She got up and looked around, not to see what was there really, more to try and clear her thoughts.

She sighed and slowly sat down, burying her head in her hands. What to do? What could she possibly do?"

---

Warderer's eyes glowed with bad temper. Not only did he constantly have to watch his back against Mishalea and Zeon and have to manage his miserable, greedy, self-serving officers, but now a very much larger concern had taken him.

There was a traitor in the Iom ranks. Of that he was certain. Only two days ago a small freedom force of Cypress had ambushed one of his legions in a valley. There went one thousand good soldiers and there was no way that the rebels could have known where to attack unless they were told.

The only ones who knew were himself, Hindle, Barbara, Death Wodol… and he admitted to himself just about any of the officers invited to Mishalea's shrine could have discovered the exact information if they took the time and care to do so.

The little red mark on his forehead started flickering steadily and a beam of red light burst up in the middle of the room and inside of it was a servant of Iom.

Warderer said, "I have summoned you here for a simple question to be answered."

The servant said disdainfully, "Ask then King of Iom."

"Who is the traitor in the Iom ranks?"

The servant burst into laughter and then snickered, "I weary of such dull questions. Later perhaps when you have earned the right to ask a question at all might I tell you."

The beam of light condensed and zapped into Warderer's forehead. He cursed loudly and muttered to himself, "Then I'll just find out the old-fashioned way."

---

Death Wodol sat alone, each breath he took in sounding like a rattling sigh, and each breath exhaled like a foul, chill, wind of ill omen.

He was little concerned by the political machinations going on all around him. He understood the situation a little differently than any of his allies. He knew the true nature of death and he knew… the truth. Whoever won this war was still completely minor. It would not in any way impede his march to victory, or stop his sinister goal.

---

And it is amongst all of these varying threads, of love, hate, betrayal, trust, greed, and duty that true destiny is born.


	17. Chapter 17:Oddler

Chapter 17

Oddler

Max looked wearily at the carnage. He had never developed much of a stomach for such things like this. All the same… he shook his head reminding himself it had to be done.

At least Mae had rallied the force, they were all here. It was then that his eyes caught a flash of pink and he heard a voice cry out, "Max!"

Tao ran forward and threw her arms around him. For just a moment Max was about to allow himself to sink into the embrace when he spotted Anri a few feet away watching. Mae was standing next to Anri her face cold.

_From one type of problem to another, _Max thought wryly. However there was something nagging at the back of his mind… what was it? One of the old sayings…

It came to him in a flash. _I can take care of my enemies, but the gods shield me from my friends. _Max stared suddenly at all of them. It was ridiculous, stupendous what he was thinking… he could trust all of them. Of course he could. He was tired and stupid.

Aloud he said, "Nobody badly injured? Except Gort of course."

Lowe replied, "I'm on it."

Max nodded slightly then looking around he spotted Ken, a reliable centaur and a good warrior.

"Ken, what happened? Is everybody accounted for?"

There was a brief pause then Ken barked, "One of Deanna's troop was killed and Arthur is missing. Other than that and Gort it's all minor injuries."

Max was shocked. Of all of the people in the group the last one he would've expected to go missing would be Arthur. The Arthur he knew would be in front of everybody else bragging about his accomplishments in battle and probably using it as an excuse to hit on one of the ladies. Arthur would never be gone unless… a cold pit formed in his stomach.

Attempting to change the subject Max turned to look at possibly the most intense man he had ever seen.

After a moment of hesitation he ventured, "You must be Deanna?"

At first he thought the man did not intend to answer him, and then he nodded and said, "Yes."

There was no noticeable change in the tension. Clearing his throat Max turned the other way and heard Ian chuckling to himself. He raised a brow at the swordmaster. Looking amused Ian tilted his head slightly to the side, and Max glanced over looking out of the corner of his eye.

For the first time ever since Galm had killed Varios he saw Mae with her defenses at least partially down. No longer did she wear the stony expression that had almost become a personal trademark. Her face was sad, and yet full of love. This caught him so off guard that he almost fell on his face. From the beginning Tao had made her feelings for him clear, and he _thought_ Anri cared. This was the first sign he had ever had that Mae cared about anyone.

Then he heard a snide chuckle and a slightly bored voice saying, "What a… quaint little place."

Max glared at Prince Nick. Oh there was no doubt that he was an excellent ally, fighter, and strategist, but Max had not really known who he was. He now knew that he would never care for the Prince personally, his smug, arrogant, superior manner made that impossible.

Nick looked coolly back, his gaze challenging and faintly contemptuous. Max glared straight back with something very close to active dislike.

Max started to open his mouth but Nick said smoothly, "Well I suppose it'll do. It certainly suits… most of you. At any rate we'll have a council in one hour. Take time to clean yourselves up a bit. I think that I'll take some time to consider the situation. This tent will do."

He started walking towards the tent, Max's tent incidentally, but he called back over his shoulder, "Ruce, Mayfair, you two come with me. We have things to discuss."

Before he could continue Natasha said firmly, "What about us, Prince?"

Nick raised a brow and then said, "Well… I, ah that is… of course if you have something to contribute you can come to talk with us, but if not I'll suppose I'll see you at the council."

Nodding curtly to the mage, Prince Nick of Cypress stepped briskly into the tent. After a moment Ruce followed after his leader looking around in a slightly defensive manner. Mayfair walked behind Ruce saying nothing.

Tao sneered in an explosive burst, "Well if that puffed-up popinjay thinks he can just walk in here and-"

"Enough." Max smiled slightly and then continued, "If those are the tactics that Nick wants to choose then I certainly won't stop him. Whatever personal distaste I feel for him, we need him as an ally certainly, and I doubt many others have the kind of knowledge about Iom and Warderer that he could share with us in five minutes. Besides, I refuse to squabble or sink to his level. If he wants to play this game I'm going to beat him fair and square."

Anri grinned at him, "You sound like a diplomat already. What happened to you and who is this?" She gestured at Ian.

Max said, "I'll explain at the Council, right now we have healing to do and search parties to organize if Arthur is to be found. And if I explain at the Council then the Prince will have to listen to it again. That'll probably annoy him. Oh, and much as I hate to admit Nick does have one point. We do need wash up. I don't know how I look, but the rest of you look awful."

He grinned cheekily at Anri, but she countered swiftly, "Ah, you may be right but I don't know that it'll do you any good. You don't have to do anything besides get out of the water before you need another bath."

Max winced and coughed slightly. His head hung low as weariness claimed his body yet again. He completely missed the glowering look that Tao shot Anri. It randomly occurred to him that Domingo hadn't said anything yet. That was unusual; it was fairly typical of Domingo to be chatty and joking.

With an effort Max looked up and saw Domingo just looking on with a wistful expression on his features. Max smiled foolishly and noticed that the world was getting darker. He took two unsteady steps forward, and then collapsed face down.

---

Zalbard smirked to himself. It had taken such a long time. Everything that he had cared about, everything he had once had… it had all been thrown away so long ago. Now his dedication, his faith was paying off. It hadn't taken him all that long to see that serving Zeon was in actuality a death trap. Nor had he wasted time in realizing that Geshp just would use him, then abandon him, and finally destroy him. Providing of course that he was as stupid as the stronger devil had assumed. That had always been Zalbard's strength and curse. He was at the bottom of the ladder compared to the others and had to get by pretty much on brains alone. He wasn't all that much more powerful that many of the ordinary devils in the army. He was smarter though, and he used that knowledge ruthlessly.

His feral, yellow eyes gleamed coldly with anticipation. A maniacal smile crept up the corners of his mouth and his drooping moustache rose up with the gleeful expression. After all he had beaten them all.

He had recognized that Geshp's plan was a means for Geshp to get what he wanted, but he had turned the tables on the devil. By all the gods he had humiliated the smirking advisor. Even bold Sir Odd-Eye hadn't been able to toss his plan back in his face. He had won against overwhelming odds, and at the others' personal expense. He recalled with a great deal of satisfaction Cameela's furious sputtering, Geshp's panic, then anger, then slumped defeat, and Odd-Eye… Odd-Eye had just looked coldly at him.

For a moment the Greater Devil felt a pang of anxiety, Odd-Eye hadn't really reacted, not at all… Did he know something? Was he planning to disrupt the plan? Angrily he gave a toss of his head and thought, _Of course nothing's wrong. The plan is perfect. What could he do?_

After all, Zalbard planned on using the Hood of Thunder. It would create an impenetrable lightning shield, a block that was effective even against weapons such as the Chaos Breaker and the Sword of Hajya. Even dark deities would have difficulty exhausting the power that would protect him. The lightning shield was made with a power that was independent to the light and dark after all. It wasn't as if the power that generated his shield was directly linked to either of the opposing powers of these troublesome times, it was a completely different field. The only similarity, he supposed, was that all three were arcane matters.

The powerful magician whipped out his slender blade and sliced the air with it viciously, and expertly. Mentally guiding himself through every physical exercise he knew of in swordsmanship, the desired effect was attained. Narrow chest heaving, Zalbard gave a cry of triumph to the sky.

Slowly drawing himself up to his full height, he closed his yellow eyes, spread his hands out in an arc and began tracing the incantations of a spell in the air with long, narrow, cruel fingers. The Greater Devil was ready.

---

Eiku glared at Lynx for a moment. Then he said in strangled tones, "Forgive me _Commander_ I must have forgotten my manners for a minute. Now the issue here is that I need more men. Say oh… ten thousand." He knew he would never get that many, but he was secretly hoping for five thousand.

Lynx said in a bored tone, "Oh all right, take three. If you're really that inept."

Eiku almost choked. _Three thousand. Three! _

"Sir, I cannot-"

Lynx sneered, "I'm being generous with you, Sub-Commander. If it wasn't for Mishalea's belief in your abilities you'd already be dead. You're a bungler, and you can't run this war now can you? You're completely corrupt and inexperienced, and not just from sheer negligence."

"May I remind you that our most recent and disastrous losses came from _your_ failure at the ambush? Is it possible that you forgot that somebody using your handwriting duped an entire garrison? Do I have to point out that every loss I've suffered has come about in some way or fashion by you, you worthless, arrogant, smug, woman-chasing, coward?"

"You dare talk to me that way and I'll have you killed on the spot whether or not Mishalea wants it."

"Of course you will," retorted Eiku sarcastically. "Well, _Sir_, there's also the matter of money and I need at least-"

"You're not getting anything," bellowed Lynx his face growing steadily redder and redder.

"Careful Lynx," Eiku almost purred, "Shall I report to the Lady that you're purposely obstructing the war?"

Lynx snarled, "Obstructing the war? OBSTRUCTING THE WAR?" NO, Eiku it's… YOU. You will get this done properly or I'll hang your guts on a fence. I'll… I'll…" his voice trailed off and his expression became more rational.

Eiku said blandly, "Listen Lynx. This war isn't for the little boys, and it's not for cowards either. You never do anything if you see a risk that it carries for you with it do you? I'm telling you right now, that this war won't be won with just curses, prayers, and threats. If you need an incentive to give me supplies, then I'm perfectly willing to report all of your lame excuses to Mistress Mishalea. You're walking on dangerous ground here."

Lynx, calmed down enough to think clearly, said coldly, "Fine… fine, take what you want; all of our funds are at your disposal. See who you can blame when you fail then."

Looking over his shoulder at his hated subordinate in an outraged manner, the High Commander strode out of the room.

Eiku watched him go with disgust. How he loathed the coward.

_Paezorta might be a fool_, he thought, _but at least he's not a woman-chasing coward._

For so long, Lynx had stood in his way. For so long, the idiot had held the power that should have come to him. He stood there feeling dark jealousy licking hungrily at his insides, beckoning him to end it right there. He willed away the rash notion, and considered his opponent more practically.

Perhaps he had gone a bit far today. Lynx was in an extremely powerful position after all. Eiku knew that his superior was bedding Mishalea, or rather; a closer guess would be that Mishalea was bedding Lynx. The very thought sickened him, but he had to admit that it did make Lynx that much more powerful.

The Commander was indulging his every whim, and not even Paezorta dared question him. Oh, he was sure that Mishalea was playing some game for herself, but it was inconvenient. And it was difficult to know how far he could go right now. While Mishalea might want to keep him alive, Lynx could easily arrange his death, and then be the one who caught and punished the "murderer."

Yes it was quite worrisome, and he kept chewing it over in his mind. However what was done was done, and he had to meet with Cellion just now. Eiku pushed the matter to the back of his mind, and then looked expectantly at his right hand.

Cellion coughed, shifted, and then said, "Ah, Commander. At the moment, I've only had a marginal amount of success and some serious concerns to talk over with you.

"Concerns first then. Let's save all good news, no matter how minimal, to cheer us up a bit." He squinted out of his window at the sun and muttered, "Miserable hot day."

Cellion laughed, "Hot as all the fires as some of the natives would say. Well then sir…" he paused and then continued, "We've lost too many men this summer. More than our worst estimates, and I still haven't gotten a good informant of any kind."

"Yes, I've just been taking the matter of losses into great consideration. It'd be nice to have an informant, but we already have a few secret weapons, so I'm not too worried. Let Magus worry about an informant. It's in his line."

"Yes sir. Still these natives fight like mad, sir. Each time we hit them hard, but then they hit us back harder and faster. The men can't keep up with this, sir. We need a miracle."

"Damn," muttered Eiku gazing out at the empty courtyard. How long had it been since he had last looked down to that courtyard? The day before the swordmaster left? Absently he fingered the bag and of gold he had kept, and silently urged the mercenary to hurry.

He turned back abruptly and said, "Anything else?"

"Along those lines? No sir. However I do have the information you requested. Or at least some of it." He tapped his cheek as he continued reporting, "It would seem that this mercenary band that routed Commander Lynx is more interesting than they first appear and more than a little out of place. Especially their leader."

Prompted by his master's nod Cellion read from a piece of paper, "This band is composed of about fifteen soldiers and they're all fairly young. The youngest being no more than fifteen or sixteen surely. There are reportedly a couple of ninjas and one of them is in his late thirties, and two others who are quite elderly. Those are the oldest however. As for the leader he's young, maybe nineteen or twenty, tall, fair hair, well-spoken, he carries a Parmecian sword-"

Eiku looked up with a sudden start. "A… Parmecian sword..." he croaked.

Cellion looked faintly surprised, "Why yes, sir. May I know what import this has?"

"Why didn't you tell me right off he had a sword, damn you?"

"Well I-"

"His name, what's his name? Can't you understand a simple question? _What's his damn name_?!"

Cellion rustled the papers about some looking around nervously, "Ah, the name my man picked up was Ian, sir. That could easily be a pseudonym, but considering-"

Eiku slumped down in his chair and murmured despairingly, "Ian…" His tongue felt clumsy in his mouth.

"I've been… betrayed," he sighed in broken tones. Why had the swordmaster betrayed him? What, by all the gods above and below, could have convinced a man like that to follow a rebellious peasant in a war against one of the greatest powers in the world? And why hadn't Cellion realized that this was the same man that he had neutralized at the fortress? Then again, Cellion had kept most of his attention on the soldiers after Ripplaw's attempted power play. He had probably only given the prisoner the briefest of glances, and then headed back eager to have something to report.

Making an obvious effort to pull his wits together Eiku said, "Fine… this changes things considerably. Take the rest of the day to rest. I'll need some time to think of new strategies. We'll talk again, later tonight."

---

Cellion watched his pacing master with admiration. Oh yes, he admired this man. Eiku had turned certain defeat into a victory after the problems with the fortress, and he had given him another chance, for which Cellion would always be loyal to the man. Oh, they'd rise to amazing heights together in the world of darkness, until they were on top. All they had to do was kill a bunch of peasants first.

---

Mishalea paced about her shrine pensively. Things were actually going remarkably well for her, but she was being certain to consider the situation and look at it in all possible perspectives.

Yes, she had finally found it. She couldn't believe how deviously simple the whole thing was. And to think, all she had to do all those years ago was to take a much better look at the Death Necklace. She stroked the jewels in the necklace, and smirked thinking to herself that Darksol had placed what needed guarding in the best of places. As soon as she could tap the energy and make it her own… then the first sacrifice would be made.

The matter of the necklace however, brought with it the offer she had made to Warderer. She intended on gaining the Cloak of Shadows. Especially now that her healing abilities were sustaining him. If only she had the cloak, she could possibly use that to bring down the Shining Force.

Then there was Kisaragi. A very interesting and very profitable ally, if somewhat less trustworthy than a venomous snake. She silently congratulated herself on that score, and now Kisaragi had given her some very useful information. She had already sent Magus to deal with that properly however. She had also informed Mishalea about the intentions of Frabell.

The dark elf was slightly disappointed. Yes she wanted to bring Death Woldol down, but Frabell was so small. She had really been hoping for an excuse to kill Bazoo. Then without Bazoo or Dantom, and with Gepple already in her pocket, Death Woldol wouldn't be very strong at all. Frabell and Edmond were good enough, but both were rather weak, so…

Yes, Kisaragi was extremely useful. In a way it was almost too bad that she would have to kill Dava's emissary. Still she'd like to keep the other woman alive until this war was safely over if possible. Yes the disappointments of life were hard to bear. Only the heart of stone triumphed in the end.

Thoughtfully Mishalea poured herself some wine and sat sipping and reflecting. Zeon had briefly informed her that he was sending Zalbard onto the field. The Lady of Darkness silently congratulated him. She didn't think that Zalbard would win, but she was glad that Zeon would lose one Greater Devil right at the outset. Besides, there was the possibility that Zalbard would cause the Shining Force to have some heavy losses.

That was the best she could hope for on that front. Then there was Ian. Oh yes, she had recognized that it was Ian that had nearly killed Lynx just before he fled the scene. Still she wasn't all that concerned that Lynx had lied about it, in an attempt to save his own life of course. Still, she wondered exasperatedly how Ian had been set loose on the countryside. Paezorta was supposed to be taking care of that, with the dwarf Ridion.

Sighing, the dark elf wondered, as she had so many other times in the past, had she done the right thing back at Hassan? Should she have stayed longer and insured Ian's death or was it right to retreat, which had seemed like the safest plan at the time? Well now it seemed that that question was answered. She hadn't killed Ian and now he was back and fighting against her.

It was extremely discouraging, especially in light of the failed Runefaust Conspiracy. Yes, that had seemed perfect to her. Let Runefaust do the work and take the blame, and work behind the scenes the whole time. Guardiana and her allies would have been wiped out, and with Ramaladu as her puppet she might've even had him invade Cypress as well. Yes… that had been hard on her. And to have Kane ruin it of all things. She had specifically singled out Kane for control, because he had already been in her way, and the irony had appealed to her.

She had tried so hard; poured so much effort into it… the disappointments of life were hard to bear. But the heart of stone could always win in the end. It always did.

Nodding her head gently, Mishalea lost herself in a storm of memory.

---

Bulldor moved at a quick pace. The fact that Dava had told him that there was a matter of remodeling at the moment changed everything. It showed how seriously she actually took her enemies during this time. Bulldor could only think of two other times when Dava had summoned him for the purpose of brining her the ancient relic he was going for now.

Aside from the crystal that Baron was excavating, this relic that he was fetching was the most powerful tool of the spiriters, and very dangerous if not rigidly controlled. The big man glanced to his sides and rear to see how the seven accompanying him were faring. Ah, yes five at least were needed and the other two were more in the nature of insurance than anything else.

Bulldor almost pitied the soldiers, but that's what the poor bastards were for after all. He needed the help, the ancient rituals needed to be fulfilled, and Dava's orders were not to be taken lightly.

One of the soldiers, Rashag, piped up, "Well what I want to know mates is how much longer we gotta keep marchin' for, an' another thing. 'Tain't fit fer us laddos to take orders from 'is 'igh an' mighty lordship up 'ere now is it. An' when are we goin' ter get somat good ter eat, eh?"

Bulldor turned back and said, "I hear you my bucko. Now clean the mud out of your ears real good, the lot of you. We're goin' to be going hard over hard terrain for another week, there and back to Dava. Any of you want to stop then you're goin' to have to fight me for it. Yes, that includes you Rashag, and your mate Fenga there, and don't think that I don't see you skulking around the back, Krull. You're either going to have to shut up and march, kill me which I don't think you're strong enough to do, or die. I may not be Dava or Kisaragi, but don't think you can take me like this either. Now what's it gonna be Rashag?"

Rashag looked slightly apprehensive, but he blustered boldly, "Ya ain't worth it. You gotta big enough ego as it is, without thinking you're worth killin'." He spat on the ground and lowered his head.

Bulldor smirked and sneered, "That's what I thought."

---

Chu Rao's sly eyes traveled about the encampment he had made. He knew what he had to do, but first… After a moment those eyes settled on a big strong soldier called Lumba.

"Lumba, you're my acting second-in-command. Rouse the army up, put on your cloak and stand in the customary spot, behind me slightly and to the right. We'll march up and have a bit of a chat with those Shining Fools."

---

Prince Nick of Cypress was incredibly bored as he had to listen to all that had happened to Max all over again. And then Max had offered him the chance of filling in the blanks about what happened to him. Shaking his head helplessly, the aristocrat, tersely and quickly recounted his own little… adventure, although, as he recounted his version he was careful to remain silent on the subject of the traitor. He had made a mistake allowing the rescue party to know; fortunately they seemed to be following his lead.

_No need to inform too many people. _

"So that's what happened, and now we need some very careful planning. Now, I've been studying your maps and we need to attack here."

He pointed down to a small area, surrounded by five villages that were close to Skull Castle.

"I have reason to believe that Lord Solo, one of Warderer's ranking officers, has taken control of those five towns and is in the process of building some sort of fortress there. If we hit hard, we can possibly gain the fortress, but that's secondary. This would be a crippling blow to Iom's power, and it would give the Freedom Fighters back in Cypress a better vantage point to weaken Warderer there. He's stretched out too far right now you see, and if we can snap the rope in one place it could create a chain reaction."

Max smiled sweetly at Nick and said blandly, "Well Prince that's very interesting. Unfortunately I'd like to gather some more information before we go gallivanting off to punish Lord Solo, especially as you have shown absolutely no evidence to support your information."

Nick drew himself up coldly and said, "How dare you question my word? You're nothing more than a peasant, and I think this war of yours has made you forget your place. Almost all of these… these… friends of yours are nothing more than common riff-raff."

"WHAT!" shrieked Tao. Before anyone could stop her she jumped up and slapped the arrogant princeling. Hard.

More self-contained Mae replied, "Have you forgotten so soon the recent service we did you Prince? I'm sure Mishalea has kept your cell well-furnished, we could hand you back over if that's what you prefer."

Nick opened his mouth, but Anri cut in smoothly, "I must apologize for the rash actions taken upon thy person your Highness, but mine friends attack was not entirely unjustified. I cannot believe mine ears is it possible that I heard correctly and thou questioned the honor of ladies of genteel birth?"

Her reasoning flawless and her seemingly unconscious lapse into archaic tongue left Nick struggling for a reply, until he fell to his knees and said, "Good Princess Anri forgive me. I forgot myself, for it is true that I have been through fierce trials of late, and in foolish temper lashed out at those whom I care for."

Ian asked dryly, "Could I have that on paper?"

Nick shot him an outraged glare and then sat up again and asked, "Lady Mayfair told me that she has something to tell me personally, but upon hearing of the spirit zombies that accosted us decided that what she had to say involved the whole council. I now ask that she enlighten us to this urgent matter?"

_Ingrates. My Cyprians are ready to die for them, aye, and myself too. _

Mayfair stood up clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. She began, "Well this starts with the fall of Cypress. When Warderer took over," Deanna shifted slightly, "some people escaped and amongst them was the King of Cypress. He immediately began and headed a resistance movement, the Freedom Fighters, that the Prince referred to. However very shortly after that he was… murdered."

Here Nick interjected sharply, "Murdered? What are you talking about Mayfair? Certainly I had heard that my father had been killed, but murdered?"

Mayfair said gently, "I'm sorry Nick, but what happened has happened. Anyway, he was killed by a Spiriter. An ambush. As I understand it she offered to speak of a possible alliance between them. It was a trap and he was killed. As far as I know there's nothing to connect the incident with Iom at all and this Spiriter has made no further move to the benefit of anyone."

Now Max turned his gaze up and he started, "The spirit zombies."

Mayfair nodded, "Exactly. I suppose I should say she's made no further moves until now."

One of Ian's men, Ruburan, stirred and asked intently, "Do you know the Spiriter's name?"

Mayfair nodded, "Of course, she lives in Cypress these days. She calls herself Dava."

Rubarban's expression hardened.

Gort, who, had been completely healed by Lowe, asked, "Ah now laddie buck, surely thaht name means somethin' to yae?"

Ruburan said shortly, "We've met."

Max looked surprised, but then asked, "Does anyone here have much knowledge about Spiriters? If she's another enemy we'll have to know how to fight her."

Nick and Mayfair said in unison, "I do."

After glancing at each other for a moment Nick picked up, "There's a whole collection of obscure books in the Cypress Library. Some of them talk about Spiriters quite extensively. Anyway a Spiriter… has this power to control beings of pure energy that live in another dimension and-"

Max interrupted, "Aren't these beings Spirits?"

Nick shook his head, "Not really, there are several corrupted versions of the word spirit. As I understand it, the original spirit was a being willed into existence by a god that was at that time the source of all power. It's the purest form of power, what Vandals and Innovators have. Then again there are undead. I don't understand how that works, but somehow a piece of the soul which lives eternally can imbue itself into dead bodies and resurrect them in a corporeal form. Then there are these beings of energy that the so called Spiriters control. Anyway, these people who learn it, in some way or other it grants them immortality. The subject's a lot more complicated, but those are the basics, and I don't know that I really understand all of what else is involved."

Max considered this, stroking his chin in an irritated manner, "Damn," he said finally, "This doesn't help things all that much, but we'll have to manage it somehow or other."

After another moment of silence Max cursed, "Damn, damn, damn. We're surrounded by all of Mishalea's army, all of Zeon's, most of Iom's, whatever division the reptile has, and now a spiriter thrown into the mix." He glanced slyly at Deanna. "What's your take on the subject my man? As far as I'm concerned you're as much a leader as the Prince or me."

Deanna said uncomfortably, "We have to strike at whoever shows weakness, or whoever attacks first. If we lay the first blow, it should fall logically on Iom. If they lay the first blow it would most like fall on Zeon or Iom. My lord."

Max said sardonically, "Well worked out there my friend, well worked out indeed, start from the foundations up, eh?"

Deanna changed tack, "Why are you doing this?"

Max opened his mouth, then closed it and paused before suddenly shouting, "Who else am I going to do this to? Who else? You all think being the leader is a lark don't you? Why the Prince would love to be in my position, but it's not like that at all, not at all. Do you have any idea what it is to feel guilt for every death?"

There was a stunned silence, and then Lowe said briskly, "Battle fatigue of sorts. It happens to people now and again. It doesn't matter what the situation is, we're going to have to take you off of all duty for the next day or so."

Just as Max opened his mouth to retort Hawel, who had been on guard duty, came up and reported briskly, "Emissary here to speak with you sir."

Max looked up and then shrugged his shoulders, "Everybody arm up, and then we'll go and greet this emissary. I have a feeling it's going to be an unfriendly one."

---

As the group moved off to talk Max's thoughts whirled in a mess. He shuddered remembering that Lowe had told him he had fainted after bantering with Anri. Then, his friend lectured him at great length about taking the time to properly care for himself. Not only was fainting embarrassing and degrading, but a man in his position couldn't afford to do it.

Ian asked quietly, "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh… nothing much I suppose."

They were diverted from any more conversation as they came into the sights of Chu Rao. Max mentally calculated that the army from what he could see was composed of at least ten thousand soldiers. Not an easy proposition.

Chu Rao puffed out his chest balefully and said, "I bring you word from my mistress, Dava. My name is Chu Rao, and my lady has a stake in the current war raging all around us. I was sent here to offer friendship to the Shining Force, and to beg your aid in bringing down the forces of darkness."

Max replied evenly, "And if we agreed to this proposition?"

"Of course you'd be well rewarded for rendered aid. Dava says that if you actively help us, once this mess is all sorted out she will allow you to govern the land of Rune here in which we fight. If, perchance, you choose a path of neutrality, Dava will not forget that you didn't assist us. On the other hand she will acknowledge that you didn't oppose us either, and will not touch you, but you'd get nothing."

Ian broke in, "I take it we don't have to ask what will happen if we do oppose you?"

Chu Rao shrugged. "If that happens, it will be nothing personal. Merely fortunes of war. Given the current circumstances however, open enmity with us would be rash, stupid, and regretful for all parties involved."

Prince Nick of Cypress drew himself up and said coldly, "How dare you come and make demands of us? I warn you scum, lowest of the low, that if you or your worthless Spiriter mistress comes into this, that presence will not be tolerated."

Chu Rao looked up slyly and then returned in a cajoling tone, "I take it that I have the distinct honor of speaking to the Crown Prince of Cypress." He continued without waiting for an affirmative, "What have I, or my friends, or my mistress done to you to make you take such a harsh line with us? Easy now Prince, I'm just asking for some common hospitality."

As he spoke the man was slowly easing back, and shifting to give the signal. Ian, Max, Nick, and Ruburan all looked at each other and nodded noting the significance of Chu Rao's movements.

"Now." The authoritative order issued from both Max's and Chu Rao's mouth at the same instant.

All mages of the Shining Force that specialized in fire magic stood in a row and cast forth a blazing wall of fire inching forward into the troops of the Spiriter's minions, impenetrable and deadly.

All of the archers, and other mages gathered and sent wave after wave of attacks at the ambush column that emerged from the back of the camp. Max had expected one.

---

Chu Rao's eyes darted around wildly as his scheme crashed down around his ears.

Lumba ran up to him and shouted, "Should I give the order for the side crews to attack?"

"Call two thirds of each crew back here, but give the last third the go ahead order. They'll be expecting an attack from the sides. Let them think that it's come; I want to focus our attention on this fire wall. Eventually those mages will exhaust their energy and we can charge in. Tell the archers to start firing, angling their shots so that it'll go over the fire. Once a couple of mages are hit the wall will be faltering."

---

Max urgently asked Ruburan, "You're sure about this?"

The ninja shrugged, "Of course. I know how he thinks. Send a small party to each side, where there'll be some troops, but not so many that the others won't handle it. Then call the mages back and tell them to slowly let the fire diminish as arrows come over the wall, while the rest of us will be ready to meet Chu Rao's charge."

Max opened his mouth when Mae ran up and reported, "They've started firing arrows, orders sir?"

Nick called out, "Ruce, take the others around to the left side of camp and kill any of the soldiers there, Mae you take some others to the right side and do the same. Mages, follow Ruburan's plan, now."

It was a tone that had commanded dozens of Cyprians and it worked now, even on the members of the Shining Force. Tao and Hawel both cried out as though they'd been hit and backed away with the rest letting the fire die down bit by bit.

Anri now ran up and said, "The ambush enemy column has fallen into a retreat."

Max replied, "All right, have the others form up with us here and we'll give that pompous windbag something to think about."

---

Chu Rao smiled tightly at Lumba, "See, what did I tell you? The wall's failing. Everybody… CHARGE!!!!!!!"

The fat man watched his army charge in anticipation, only to see them fall back. Then the Shining Force was in the thick of it. Chu Rao stared in horror as the others systematically destroyed his troops.

Almost in a panic he screamed, "Fall back, everybody fall back. Regroup, retreat, RETREAT!"

A smug voice informed him, "I don't think they can hear you."

Chu Rao whirled about only for a hard boot to strike him in the skull. He stumbled back and saw Ruburan standing there.

With a look of shocked horror and disbelief the fat war leader bleated, "You!"

Then he grinned evilly, "Dava'll just love this. Wait until I tell her."

The ninja lept forward, but Chu Rao dodged to the side and smartly chopped his enemy's neck. Seizing the chance to run, Chu Rao did just that. Rubarban, recovering quickly, raised himself up and flung his dagger at Chu Rao's retreating back.

"Damn," he muttered as it missed. Too far off to the side. With a further sigh the ninja rushed forward and picked it up, then went back to rejoin the main fight.

Lumba howled, "All right, you there, yeah you hundred stay here and keep fighting them. We'll come around from another direction and help you."

Lumba and the rest of the army moved off to intercept their leader. Chu Rao immediately said, "Leave that lot there to distract them while we escape. Come on, we've learned what we need and have had enough for one try."

---

The Shining Force surveyed the slaughter and Ian remarked cheerfully, "Hah, we don't have a single loss."

Max sank down and muttered, "That's good at least. Still, he might be the least of Dava's servants, but he's very good. I don't think we would've won that easily without Ruburan's help. How did you know what to expect?"

The ninja returned the hard look and replied, "As I told you, we've met. Anyway, before we do anything else we'd better rest up and-"

"Now I don't think we'll do that," announced an unfamiliar, harsh voice.

Max lept up, Chaos Breaker in hand upon seeing the strange apparition that had appeared when Deanna forestalled him, "Don't bother, it's a projection."

"Now that's very perceptive," continued the voice, "Yes I must certainly congratulate your knowledge. Anyway, my name is Zalbard and I serve the King of the Devils, Zeon. I'm here to kill you, you might as well know and you can find me in ancient shrine of the forest."

Then he was gone.

"Not much of a conversationalist now is he," noted Tao.

It was then that the sounds of fighting were clearly heard. Stifling a sigh of impatience Max said, "Arm up again, it sounds like Chu Rao is back."

In the end Gort, Max, Ian, Nick, Deanna, Mae, Hanzou, and Lowe went to investigate.

They saw a young man in a pale yellow robe, with light purple hair, fighting about twenty devils with a slightly curved sword. Curiously enough, he didn't seem to be following the fight. His body responded to the movements of his enemy's, but his eyes didn't follow them. That was when Max realized that the eyes were closed.

_Gods, is that man blind?_

He didn't have much time to ponder the question.

With a roar Gort flung himself into the fray shortly followed by the others. The stranger brought his blade up into a leaping devil, and then ripped it to the side effectively gutting the creature. He then turned and brought the axe down in an overhead strike cleaving the scaly head in two. Max sighed as he started to move in. He loved Gort's reckless wrath, but he was wary of it at the same time. He was far too aware that the old man wanted to die, after the incident out on the highlands.

Gort slammed his own head into the face of one, and then neatly chopped its head off. Whirling around his axe head got caught in the jaw of another enemy. With a slight grunt he yanked his axe out, and the bottom of the jaw was ripped off and went spinning in the other direction. Stumbling slightly from his own momentum, the dwarf fell prey to a devil as its hooked claws slammed into his shoulder and knocked him down.

He managed to throw his axe forward, but the devil calmly batted the missile away where it, somewhat ironically, slammed into the stomach of the one missing the jaw. The latter devil fell unconscious rapidly dying from blood loss. Gort looked up, and saw death coming in, when the creature suddenly stiffened up and went limp.

The stranger hauled Gort up while simultaneously removing his sword, dripping with blood, from the spine of the now dead creature. The dwarf seized his axe and then went fighting back to back with his rescuer.

Max charged forward and drove his sword into the brain of an approaching devil, and then wrenching it out, buried it in the heart of another.

Mae neatly killed one, sliding her lance down its open mouth. However, another leapt at her from behind and knocked her down. As it leaned in to commit the kill Lowe managed to knock it aside. Quick to recover the beast lept forward and fell down at Mae, who had by this point managed to point her lance upward.

Deanna had already killed two, each by a single thrust. Nick quickly slashed one across the throat and then dodged one that flung itself at him. Faster than the startled enemy he brought his own sword down on the back of the devil's neck.

Ian, impervious to all attempts to penetrate his defenses, killed one with a blow to the neck. Another came and flung itself forward, and missed. It then jumped again, but Ian dodged and swung his blade. It lodged into the beast's back. The devil went on a rampage slashing with claws and biting with fangs. Ian fell back and the devil jumped on top of him, but the swordmaster brought his feet straight up and sent the wounded creature crashing back first straight into a tree. It fell limply, the blow having driven the blade deeper into the creature and into the spine. After retrieving his weapon he slashed the throat of the unconscious devil almost as an afterthought.

Hanzou dropped onto the back of one and promptly removed its head from its body, then slashed the throat of another quickly.

Gort and the stranger had killed three others. The last was not in sight, when it dropped down on the stranger and raked at him wildly. Gort spun on his feet and flung his axe like a tomahawk.

His aim was true and the axe buried itself deeply in-between the creature's shoulder blades.

Gort came over and after freeing his axe asked, "What's yaer name laddie buck?"

After a slight pause the stranger answered in a soft voice, "They call me Oddler."

"Oddler eh? Well you ahn' me are goin' tae get on jus' fine. Ah yaer a stroong warrior ah dare say an' nothin' brings men closer together than fightin' side by side. Anyway, I'll introduce yae around an' we'll have a drink, tell stories, have a sparring match later an'-"

The old dwarf continued in this vein for the rest of the walk back before saying firmly to everyone that this was his good pal Oddler and that he'd kill them if they looked the wrong way at him.

---

Arthur groaned as he forced himself forward despite the burning agony. It'd been largely like this ever since he killed the two swaggering archers. He couldn't be sure where he was, but he hoped he was traveling in the direction of the Shining Force. Abruptly he stopped at the sound of marching. He heard the sound of talking and strained to hear it.

"Hah, Master Magus is pretty smart. I bet he arranged this whole thing himself, and at least it's an easy assignment."

"You're right there matey. Thank the gods we ain't going east to fight the Shining Force."

"Hehehe, yeah, that is a blessing. And we get to be the army that topples Alterone. Let the others die attacking the Shining Force."

Arthur fell back feeling sick. Alterone… about to be attacked. Gritting his teeth he staggered up again and turned east. He had to warn the others quickly.

---

Max sighed. He wanted to question Oddler more closely, but didn't have the energy for it today. He'd handle it tomorrow amongst all of the other things that needed to be taken care of. Still he had realized there was one thing that didn't fit about what Ian had told him, and forced himself to stay awake so he could ask, "Ian, you never said what happened to Nosshu?"

Ian laughed bitterly, "Isn't it obvious?"

Max replied thickly, "Dead?"

Ian laughed again looking at his uncle with sardonic amusement, "Of course not. He's the one who betrayed us."


	18. Chapter 18: Alterone

Chapter 18:  
Alterone

Mishalea glared viciously around at the gathered minions of evil. She was in a foul mood. Once her elation over her most recent discovery had faded she had been forced to accept certain truths that did not sit well with her. Warderer smiled knowingly. She was not the only one to have spies

After a moment she snapped, "Where's Solo?"

Warderer replied silkily, "Solo? Solo? Oh, you mean Lord Solo. Of course, how stupid of me to forget to tell you. Lord Solo is personally overseeing the construction of Alshar as he feels that things have reached a very delicate state."

Mishalea fixed her icy eyes upon him, but this time Warderer was ready and the disciple of Iom matched her stare. After a few moments Mishalea turned away, not overwhelmed merely recognizing that at current moment nothing could be gained from the quarrel. _A pity._

Instead she asked in a level tone, "As always you seem to have volunteered yourself Warderer. Why don't you make your report?"

The King of Iom rebutted swiftly, "Ah what have you done with that guffawing buffoon of yours? The one called Magus?"

Mishalea replied impatiently, "He's busy attacking Alterone as I have strong reason to believe that he can overthrow it."

Before Warderer could answer her Eiku lept up sputtering, "Bu- but… but, I… I… the staging of an attack is under my supervision. This wasn't even mentioned to me. I am outraged, I am humiliated, I am…"

His voice trailed off and he dithered helplessly as the merciless gaze of his mistress turned to him.

Warderer broke in smoothly, "Are you sure this time? It seems to me that the last time you jumped to a hasty military action the results were disastrous."

Mishalea glared, "Your own army isn't fairing so well. Last report I received the resistance in Cypress was victoriously attacking almost all of the targets they went after. Including whole legions. So you'll forgive me if I place very little faith in your assessments of my army's ability."

"Oh that's good, very good."

Mishalea said icily, "Will you stop dancing around and come to the point?"

Warderer grinned, "As you wish oh Lady. Anyway the point is that Cypress is not as secure as we thought it was. This group of malcontents within the country is fairing better than expected. All the same I don't think there's anything to worry about yet. Our forces are-"

Mishalea interrupted, "Nothing to worry about? You fool. Or were my informants lying when they said that the Cypress Resistance successfully attacked an entire legion?"

Warderer raised his brows as he realized how much she knew. He said nothing though. Mishalea spared Barbara and Hindel only the briefest of glances before turning her back on them. She treated Woldol and his officers with the same disdain not caring about what they had to say.

After a moment or two she finally settled her eyes on Eiku again. The sub-commander practically flinched.

He stuttered, "Well uh… I um, haven't h-had enough t-t-time to… that is to say…" he spread his hands looking disgustingly helpless. Mishalea actually smiled at him and he took an involuntary step backward.

Lynx smirked, his voice rich with satisfaction, "So in other words you don't have anything to report. Despite the fact that I gave you the reinforcements you requested."

Eiku snapped, "Some, some of the soldiers. As for my plans, it is my belief that we'll have the best chance of destroying them if we can split them up. Confuse them. Even manage to get the people against them in a passionate hatred."

Cameela muttered, "I should have thought that much was obvious."

Eiku ignored the Greater Devil and locked eyes with Lynx as he continued, "In light of this I believe that if we make the people suffer enough in Max's name, it won't be too long before they're all eager to kill him themselves. And Max is a fool who suffers from a conscience, and this will…" he gestured vaguely, "Hurt him, damage his effectiveness."

Warderer resisted the urge to snigger. Eiku could worry about all of that if he wanted to; it would only validate Warderer's own opinion that Eiku was the most tedious man in Rune.

Lynx snorted disdainfully, "That's you're brilliant plan? Slaughtering helpless peasants to make Max feel guilty? That's idiotic. You'll just rouse the populace in anger against us. And anyway where's the honor in killing a few starving peasants?"

Eiku snarled from in-between clenched teeth, "Your honor is cowardice."

Lynx's eyes went flat, "Make your japes with steel in your hand."

Eiku turned and confessed to Warderer, "Oh dear, I think I've touched a sore spot. Do you think I should stay and try to cheer him up?"

Warderer laughed, "By all means."

Lynx snapped, "Get out."

Mishalea met Eiku's gaze. She tilted her head towards the door. Eiku fled with all of the dignity he could manage.

The dark elf then looked at Lynx and wearily chided, "Control yourself." The High Commander flushed and looked away. "As I suspected," she murmured, "you also have nothing to contribute to the conversation."

Lynx said stiffly, "I've been awaiting new orders."

Cameela replied sardonically, "Of course you have."

Mishalea's eyes flashed as she turned and countered, "Well then you must have something to say yourself. What are you doing?"

Cameela said arrogantly, "I don't answer to you."

Mishalea sighed, "And this is what you call discipline?" now facing Zeon.

A flush rose in Cameela's cheeks but she kept her head high and boldly met Mishalea's eyes. Zeon on the other hand was sputtering with rage. How dare she speak to him like that! He was Zeon! He was the greatest dark power that had ever lived and she dared to insult him!

Warderer said dryly, "Zeon old boy, try not to make your thoughts quite so transparent. It ruins the effect every time."

"Why you… I am Zeon! I know more power than you could dream of ever knowing. I… I… you…"

Mishalea said to him, as though speaking to a little boy, "We all know who you are and what you do. You don't really have to explain to us."

A deep growl emanated from his throat. Mishalea deliberately turned away from him. Warderer snorted and gave the Lady of Darkness an impertinent glance. She ignored him too. She had only eyes for Cameela, and though her face paled slightly the Greater Devil matched her eye for eye.

Yes, the sorcerer could tell that Cameela feared her. And that, he acknowledged, was reasonable. Many feared her, but very few would dare to stand up to her as well. He privately mused, _Rare mettle indeed. And just ripe to be tempered. _

Warderer considered Mishalea's ongoing silent contemplation. What exactly was she thinking? Did she mean to use Cameela?

Aloud Mishalea said, "This isn't about us. It can't be. I want everyone here to understand that. Right now the Shining Force is out there, defying us. We're all threatened and we must all come together. That or be destroyed by the anarchic force of our enemies. The light is with them. And there can't be peace in the land until one side vanquishes the other. Not here, not in Rune. It must be the light or the darkness; we can't live together. And so we must survive. There can't be another way, not in Rune."

Knowing that she had them, knowing that they all listened and silently agreed with her she pressed her point home, "What is between us is not what this is about. And not until they and the light are destroyed can there be any complacency. Until they are safely dead we cannot afford to quarrel within our own house. Later… later when they are gone then we can settle what remains between us."

Warderer's lips twitched. The show was obviously for his benefit. He already realized that Zeon, despite his hotheadedness and the ancient enmity between himself and Darksol wholeheartedly believed what she said. The main one that Mishalea believed would resist in bitter anger, and hurt skepticism was himself. She stepped forward and put her hands on his shoulders turning his head to face him as if she were a mother urging a recalcitrant son. Her voice was as warm as it had been in the days when Warderer had trusted her. "What's between you and me isn't what this is about. It can't be. And do you really want Max, or someone else to finish it for us?"

Warderer admitted honestly, "No I don't want somebody else to finish this."

She came even closer, insisting, "Then will you put your games, your secret scheming, will you put all of it behind you until it is safe for the darkness to splinter?"

The disciple of Iom almost flinched. It had been a long time since she had spoken to him like this. Even longer since she had laid a hand on him in friendship. But Mishalea didn't have friends, not then not ever. This wasn't friendship, it was coercion. And he had forgotten how good she was at it.

Hopelessness might have flooded his veins had not hatred and the desire for revenge suddenly burned icily inside of him. He made sure that as he answered his voice didn't tremble with white-hot emotion or animal pain. He wouldn't give her that satisfaction. "I swear to aid you in the destruction of your enemies and until the day their blood flows, as freely as the darkness flows, I will not attack you or your friends or the friends of your friends."

"Ah," said Mishalea, her voice satisfied, snide. "Thank you."

Warderer turned away and drew back from the congregation beckoning Hindel and Barbara to follow him. He spoke in a low voice, "Barbara, I have an assignment for you back in Cypress. You'll find the details there. Take five platoons with you."

The general nodded and quickly retreated from the chamber. Warderer continued to Hindel, "Listen, I have to leave for a few days, as soon as this meeting's over. With Barbara in Cypress and Solo at his fortress I want you to oversee things here. I'm not leaving just so they can change things behind my back. Keep an eye on everyone, and particularly keep an eye on Death Wodol. I want to know what he's up to."

Hindel raised a brow and slipped out of the chamber. Warderer drifted silently back to his customary spot to see what else he could learn.

Cameela was reluctantly giving over her plans.

"So far I've set up relay systems and got the scouts going. All that ordinary sort of stuff. I mean to meet the Shining Force in combat. If a little ploy of mine isn't successful that is."

Geshp said sharply, "A ploy? Open combat? Don't be an idiot, Cameela. You need my war plan."

Cameela blinked and then said, "Why? You're not half as smart as you think. I'm not stupid and I know that you'll rig the plan so that I'll be killed. Well I'm leader of the army, Geshp and you," she concluded with bitter satisfaction, "are just a bootlicker with Zeon's ear."

---

Geshp stared at her, incredulous, furious… betrayed. He hadn't counted on Zalbard's trickery. And so that plan had backfired. Unfortunately it seemed that that single spark had created open hostility and defiance in Cameela. He had always known that she loathed him and had, privately, returned the feeling in full. And now he had nowhere to turn. With the two weaker devils ignoring his plans and orders that left Red Baron and the oaf couldn't think for himself. An advantage from one point of view, of course, but it was still a serious setback from another. And he knew that Odd-Eye would enjoy his uncomfortable position. Odd-Eye…

Geshp suddenly asked, "Where's Odd-Eye?"

---

Cameela tossed her head and said, "Well he was just right there… where _is_ he?"

Zeon looked up for the first time since shouting at Mishalea and looked startled, "He… I… Geshp! We're finished here. I'll want to talk to you. Cameela continue with the army as you have been doing. Wait until Zalbard reports back before taking any action though."

Both devils nodded at their leader and followed him out of the chamber. Mishalea glanced at Warderer and asked coolly, "Don't you have something better to do?"

Warderer replied dryly, "Only for you my dear." Then, with a last impertinent look at her, he strode quickly out. The undead followed.

Mishalea smiled and said, "Now the rest of us can actually talk." Bangar and Gwaid stepped out of the shadows and bowed respectfully. Lynx looked bored, and a tall dignified-looking man stepped out from behind the statue. Paezorta followed after him.

Bangar jerked his head at the tall man and asked, "Who'ssssss thisssssss?"

Lynx said quickly, "He's a specialist. Nothing for you to worry about."

Bangar shrugged and said nothing.

Mishalea's eyes narrowed and after a moment she finally said, "There are certain things that concern us, all of us. The others don't need to know about them. Let's start with you Gwaid. I've officially given you captaincy of your own platoon. What results do you have?"

Gwaid, as always was brief but concise, "I've been training them. So far nothing more than that has happened. Once they understand, once they're ready then you shall have the bravest, fiercest, most powerful warriors."

Mishalea snorted slightly at the arrogance behind the statement. She was however willing to wait and see if Gwaid's confidence could produce at least some results. So she merely ignored him and turned a sharp gaze to Bangar. The reptile was quick to report.

"Sssso far I've been extending my grasssp over the waterssss ruled in your own lands. While ruling water is difficult it issss effective. All of the water in your landsss isss now warded, deadly to thossse whom I do not permit to cross over it."

Mishalea murmured, "Yes I already have some understanding of how water sorcery works."

Bangar glanced over at Paezorta and said, "Yesss, we two have known of the power for a long time."

Paezorta looked coldly at the reptile, but then, Mishalea remembered, he had never liked Bangar anyway. It galled him to think that the ruffian considered himself equal to Paezorta in the liquid mysteries of water magic, however he did have that power and it did merit recognition to a degree. Bangar however, was a weak fool, no where near matching the strength Paezorta could bring to the magic. At the same time, Paezorta acknowledged, it was useful to have somebody else to see to such matters so he treated him with chilly indifference.

It was a moment before he realized that Mishalea had been speaking. "Hmmm?"

Exasperated, she said, "I was asking how well you had come in your own line."

Paezorta replied, "I regret to say milady that I have been so far unsuccessful in finding someone willing to betray Max. Tracking him of course is the key, but that's proving harder than I would have anticipated. I can, however, shed some light on another matter of no less importance. In my last talk with the dwarf, Ridion, he said that Ian had gone tracking and had disappeared without a trace." She absently noted that Lynx stiffened up, but then ignored him as Paezorta continued, "Ian's party and the rescue group that broke in here and saved Max seem to have ambushed each other one night, each side believing the other to be us, and then after the attack they joined forces. Ian was apparently, the focus of the attack having signaled to his friends, and that same signal drew Max's group in as they believed they had found some of us."

Mishalea frowned, "Why didn't Ridion make his move in the confusion?"

Paezorta quickly said, "I gather that some burst of magic hit him and practically killed him before he could do much of anything." She lifted a brow at his abruptness wondering. _A touch of treason, or is it something else?_ In the meantime he had changed the subject by saying, "I don't understand how Ian was let loose to rampage the countryside. Ridion was most positive about his sudden disappearance."

Mishalea muttered, "People don't just disappear." She knew that well enough having made dozens of people disappear over the years. None of them came back. She looked up and said, "Well then gentlemen, I think that just about wraps up our current business." She looked inquiringly at the tall man and Lynx. When neither said anything she finished, "In that case, Lynx, I almost forgot to tell you. Eiku promoted that lizardman, Slit, to the rank of Supreme General."

"WHAT?" he shouted.

Mishalea said dryly, "Brogan wasn't making much headway either. Perhaps Slit will manage to do his job properly." Eiku had suggested the idea to her. Of course, she was quite aware that all she had really done was trade one of Lynx's men for one of Eiku's, but that was irrelevant. Brogan had proven to be mostly useless and Slit was a respectable replacement. And, in any event, it was a useful move in regards to Eiku. He had grown ever more difficult since she had taken Lynx to his bed, and she hoped that this might pacify him. The only other question was Warderer. Had his declaration been sincere? She thought it had been. Despite all the years of bloodshed and enmity between them, for a moment they had been mentor and apprentice again. But only for a moment. What a waste of his talent. As she considered these things she turned her back on her councilors and one, by one, they filed out the tall man bringing up the rear with a sad look in his eyes.

As soon as they left Kisaragi dropped down from the ceiling. "You wanted to see me milady?"

"Do you," asked the dark elf, "have access to this thing called the Freedom Fighters?"

One of Kisaragi's eyebrows rose slightly. Mishalea had learned by now that this signaled surprise in her cagey companion. The other woman replied silkily, "Yes." She then added with an insulting grin, "I even have access to Max himself." Ignoring the barb Mishalea helped herself to a modest quantity of jasmine wine, and then pushed the decanter to Kirsagi murmuring as she did so, "Then we have many things to discuss."

---

Hindel slunk down the hallways to the room of Frabell. The Black Knight, as he was sometimes called, might well have refused Warderer's imperious order to spy if he hadn't realized how little he knew of the activities of the undead. And of course there were other factors to consider.

His odd new ally for one. So he prepared himself to listen. He had even decided to try and gather enough evidence to destroy one of them. Not only would it prove a useful ploy as far as King Warderer was concerned, he certainly didn't want any of the factions to be too strong. So he had selected Frabell to be the one too fall. Whom he had never liked anyway.

He came up to her room and cast two spells. The first was a way of making himself invisible. He knew that unless someone was looking for him specifically or unless he was pointed out to somebody he was so unremarkable that no one would note his presence. The second was the spell of projection so he could record whatever Frabell said to herself, or to Bazoo whom he followed into the room.

He stood in the corner the projection recording everything as Bazoo glanced at the corpse of an Iom soldier. "What's this doing here?"

Frabell shrugged, "He tailed me. I'm not sure if he was under orders from Warderer or if he had just been trying to show initiative so that he'd be promoted. I'm not even sure that he knew of our plans. One way or another though he was too risky, and an annoyance. Besides, I'm getting bored. When do we move against Warderer? And how?"

Bazoo said gravely, "Patience Frabell. We shall slaughter one of his battalions and leave incriminating evidence behind. Perhaps we'll blame the Vandal, Rilix. Or maybe you'd prefer to go after Eiku. It's all one and the same to me."

Frabell was silent, staring up at the ceiling, pensively stroking her chin. Bazoo leaned casually against the wall opposite Hindle and then with Frabell still staring mindlessly upwards, the double-dealing wizard winked at Hindel.

The Black Knight tried hard to choke down his surprise and consider this fact in perspective. One thing was certain; he had found a powerful and unpredictable ally. Frabell finally asked, "When?"

Bazoo yawned and glanced at Hindel opening his hand twice. He shook his head and held up one hand. The wizard replied, "In five days."

Frabell actually grinned and then said, "Good, waiting is tiresome. And let's leave evidence against Rilix. That'll be the best way to make sure that they all erupt in murderous chaos."

Bazoo bowed and murmured, "It shall be as you command my lady." He then turned and left the room making sure that his cloak fluttered. Hindel slid out of the room and then ran to catch up with the wizard. Not bothering to look at him Bazoo asked, "I presume you now have sufficient evidence to justify killing Frabell?"

He answered, "Well I was thinking of humiliating her before the council and then having her execution handed over to Mishalea or Warderer."

"Even better. I'm now going to meet with Edmond. Care to come?"

Hindel grinned at him and replied, "What an excellent suggestion."

The meeting with Edmond proved to be disappointing in the extreme. Hindel was actually shocked at far gone Edmond was. He remembered Edmond at the start of the civil war, determined, focused, smart… Now however… Ah well, Hindel supposed that death might do that to a person.

He caught Bazoo's eyes as the wizard was saying gravely, "And I believe that for the best effect, Your Grace…" The undead wizard stopped abruptly, gave the tiniest of nods, and then returned his attention to Edmond allowing the Black Knight to slip out of the chamber.

Hindel now walked purposely towards the chambers of Death Woldol. He hadn't learned much of interest from Edmond other than the fact that the man who would be king was just as pitiful as he had always supposed. He viewed the fact that Gepple was now in Mishalea's pocket as being much more interesting. Although he had scant information, from what he did know, he judged that Gepple, like Bazoo, was probably betraying everyone. After finishing with Edmond he had managed to shake the wizard off and that left only one person to spy on.

It didn't take him long to reach the chambers where Death Woldol resided. He did know how powerful the undead leader was and decided to listen outside the door. After all Bazoo had seen him when he had the invisibility spell invoked. Unfortunately this meant that he could only hear snatches of conversation. Woldol was saying something about a Demon Gate… in fact from everything Hindle could hear it was all about a Demon Gate of some sort. Whatever a Demon Gate was. And then he heard the next part clearly.

"And I'm counting on the others to distract those fools. Remember, I'm relying on you Dantom."

Hindel's eyes snapped open. Dantom…

---

Eiku's pride still smarted at being thrown out of the Council. Then again one of the qualities that had led him into becoming an officer in the first place was that he always knew when to run and when to fight. Jealousy consumed him as he thought of Lynx. Did Lynx know how to fight? Oh yes, but did he know when to run? Yes he did, but he never entered a fight without stacking it in his favor and then he would defeat enemies the "honorable" way. It made Eiku sick.

Pushing away such thoughts he looked across the table to Cellion and began, "Do you have any more information on the movements of the Shining Force?"

The captain shook his head and then said, "But I think I have a good idea of what they're going to do."

"Oh?"

"Now that Zalbard has moved out they have to challenge him, and win quickly before he strikes first. They know this. However, what happens when they receive news of Alterone's plight? They can't let such a valuable ally slip through their fingers. So Max either has to split his forces or abandon one in favor of the other."

"Hmmm… do you think he'd leave his camp unguarded?"

"I doubt it sir. He doesn't tend to make that kind of mistake. And from all reports his campsite was recently the subject of a large battle. Apparently somebody else has a stake in this business and started by attacking them. Although the attack failed I think that it's enough to make Max extremely cautious. He'd want the camp guarded anyway and this will have probably convinced him that he must leave it guarded at all times."

"So if he does try to multi-task he'd logically have to split up into thirds?"

"Yes sir. And he knows just as well as we do how that would be stretching his forces just a bit thin."

"Well I'm afraid that I can't tend to that myself. At least not now. I have another concern to think of. And I can't send you as I want you to begin implementing my latest plan of butchering the villages. It might not have results. Or it might have very good ones. And that will keep Lynx occupied. I suppose I'll have Slit try taking on the camp. If Max splits up."

"Slit…? But he doesn't have that kind of authority."

"Of course he does. I promoted him to Supreme General. A useful sort of ally. And unusually intelligent given that he's a lizardman. Besides I prefer to have the leader of the army, after myself that is, be one who's my ally."

"Naturally." Cellion hesitated a moment and then ventured, "May I be as bold as to ask, what is this other concern sir?"

Eiku was silent for a moment and then he muttered, "That blasted General of Zeon's."

"You mean Advisor Geshp? He certainly is a slippery one, but I shouldn't think-"

"No. Not Geshp. Cameela."

"_Cameela?!"_

"She's been snooping around. I'm not sure why. Maybe she just wants a promotion. Maybe she's trying to kill Geshp. But one way or another it's too dangerous to leave her alone. I need to have her killed. Very soon. But none of this," he said looking sternly at his subordinate, "is your concern. I'll deal with Cameela and I expect you to deal with the populace."

"Yes sir."

---

Solo's eyes were shrewd. He idly picked up a pebble and then threw it at the back of one of the workers. The man, Luagor, was dour and usually silent. He stood up and slipped over to Solo.

Solo smiled at him and attempted (although he utterly failed) to make his raspy voice jovial, "So my friend what information have you picked up?"

Luagor muttered fiercely, "I'm not your friend or anyone else's. Right now, the others are fed up and there are three ringleaders who are urging them on to mutiny and an eventual attack on the Nar."

"I need names Luagor, proper information that I can act upon."

"The ringleaders are a man called Dustan, an older man named Ferik and a woman called Ara. I'm not sure exactly what they're up too though."

The spy fell silent and Solo hissed, "Then tell me what you do know."

The traitor looked up his eyes defiant, "I'm taking a real risk with this. If the others find out they'll kill me for sure. So I want some proper food this time. None of your table scraps. A whole roast fish and some of that damson wine that the others brought in."

Solo's eyes widened. "How do you know that we have damson wine?"

A sly smile played across Luagor's features, "I know lots of things."

Attempting to curb his impatience Solo snarled, "Fine, fine you'll have your food. Now get on with it.

"They've got at least half of the others on their side, but they're smart. They won't risk an attack until they're as sure as they can be that they'll get away with it. They're working as slowly as they can and stealing anything that can be turned into a weapon of some sort."

Solo stared hard at his informant. "Let me get this straight. You know who the ringleaders are, but you only know the vague idea of their plans. You know they have weapons, but you don't know when they're going to act. Don't play the fool give me information I can act upon."

The spy swallowed and then said, "I know where they're hiding the weapons. In the lower recesses of the fortress."

Solo rasped, "Well done Luagor. You'll have your payment. But even think of playing me false and what you're about to witness will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you."

With that the ambitious lordling set off and soon was in the midst of the workers, who were all under the watchful eye of Harkan. Solo laughed, but it was a mean sly sound, "Well then my friends you've had a nice and easy few days."

Boldly a middle-aged peasant stood up and asked, "And what do you want? Sir."

Ignoring the insult Solo tried a smile, but his features merely twisted into a grotesque leer as he said, "You must be Ferik. Right?"

"Aye that's me."

"Is there an Ara here?"

"I am Ara."

Solo stared hard at her. He said, "Then you can tell me which one is Dustan. Another young person like yourself."

She licked her lips nervously and started to open her mouth when a lean hungry looking man jumped up and said wearily, "Don't trouble her. They call me Dustan."

Solo's expression immediately became one of pleasure as he said, "In that case, Dustan, I hereby arrest you for plotting rebellion against the Nar."

Harkan winced, signaled for two soldiers to go and hold Dustan, and then quickly turned his gaze away from the proceedings. Dustan shouted, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Tell these thugs to let go of me!"

Solo shook his head and replied, "Come, come Dustan. Put away these childish things. Just tell me all of the plans, and supplies that your followers have and I will merely have you killed instead of putting you through that troublesome business of torture."

"You're insane. There are no plans. We have no supplies. Nobody follows me. Now tell them to let me go."

Solo merely shrugged and held up his hand. Little bolts of electricity burst from it and struck the helpless peasant. On Solo's face there was a look of pure ecstasy, as though inflicting pain brought him all the joy in the world. After several minutes when Dustan could hardly hold himself up Solo leaned close to him and whispered, "Just tell me and I'll end this."

Dustan croaked, "Starve a man, beat a man, steal from him and you reduce him to an animal. But a mere animal will remember the cunning of the wild. And he will do anything he can to destroy his predators."

Solo grinned at him and then said, "You know why you're here, now come to the point."

"I am here… because I believe in a… a free Rune."

Solo snarled softly and slapped the man, as more electricity ran off of his fingers. Dustan screamed in agony, but managed to throw himself forward and grab at Solo's ankle. The lordling tripped and hissed, "Take this fool to his fate."

As Dustan was dragged off his eyes never left Luagor's face. And Luagor finally turned away and slowly walked over to the quarry amidst the whispers of "toady." Solo took a deep breath and then he too turned away. Harkan finally said in a subdued voice, "Get back to work."

---

As Bulldor slept, Rashag urged the others to mutiny. "Now's our chance mates. While 'is 'igh an' mighty lordship sleeps we can stick a blade twixt 'is ribs. Or just run off."

Fenga vigorously agreed, "Yeah, we've been marching for days with hardly a crust between us. 'Taint right. An another thing, 'o knows where we're going too? I'd give yer me affidavit that wherever it is, it ain't notin' good."

Krull sneered, "Shut up you two. You know that nobody can escape from Mistress Dava or her cronies. They're all magic."

Rashag snorted, "Magic my foot! You lot are really stupid."

"An' who are you calling stupid? And don't wave that thing around at me. I've got a sword twice as big. Look!"

As Krull's hand shot down to his sheath Rashag rushed at him and swept his sword at Krull's neck with one hard blow.

"Ha, serves you right."

Bulldor's eyes snapped open. He'd been waiting for something like that to happen. He said cheerfully, "Well then let's get on. We don't have all year you fools."

As he led the party onward Fenga murmured to Rashag, "That 'un must be crazy!"

---

Chu Rao stood in what was once the proud square of a miserable lightforsaken town somewhere in the darkforsaken forests of this godforsaken country. Lumba's latest plan had been a good one and soon they had found the perfect place. And this village was loyal to the Shining Force. A perfect ruse. He watched the greasy smoke pouring all over the place and then judged that his work here was done. He'd let Lumba see to the rest. The slaughter would be over by dawn.

---

Max wearily rubbed his aching head. So far he had made a fair amount of progress. He had finally convinced Prince Nick to hold off an attack on the area where he _believed_ that Solo was building a fortress. He couldn't see how the Prince would be that stupid when all he had was circumstantial evidence.

As for the rest of it… an attack on Zalbard was the next thing. He'd had Domingo look into it and the creature had reported back that the shrine was heavily guarded on the outside and that the guards seemed to be under the command of a knight in black armor. Zalbard had presumably taken up residence in the shrine. _How convenient._

Oddler had proved a tremendous help. After Ian's startling announcement about Nosshu he had dredged up the energy to question the young man at great length. He had lived in a fairly simple peasant village all his life until he was delayed on a hunt. When he got back he had found the town massacred and it seemed that Zalbard was the cause of that. He had made a vow of vengeance then and there and had consecrated a few years to the study of devils.

Oddler had learned a great deal and one particular thing that he had shared with them was, "Zalbard is in the possesion of a powerful magic object called the Hood of Thunder. When worn it creates an impenetrable shield of lightning. It is however possible to destroy it, although very difficult, and then Zalbard would have to meet us with his own strength."

It was certainly interesting and could very well explain the arrogance of the Greater Devil in telling them his location. Yes it could explain that.

He hadn't detained Oddler much longer though and the young man was polite, cheerful and already great friends with Gort.

Finally Max looked up and issued orders tersely, "Deanna, you've proven yourself. At least to me. I'm going to make you and your group a sort of scout party although of course we'll need you to fight as much as everyone else. Ken, I'm doing the same to you and I want you to form your own group. I trust you judgment. Now then I'm not leaving the camp unguarded for Chu Rao to try and attack again so I always want Mae, Gort, Nick, Deanna, Ian, or myself to be in charge of a few forces here. Also, I want you two," now gesturing at Ken and Deanna, "to set up better vantage points now. No more being ambushed right in our own base if we can help it."

"Sir!"

Max looked up and saw that one of the appointed sentries, Dawn he thought it was, came running up helping to support the weight of… _Arthur?_

He started to open his mouth when Arthur croaked, "Alterone about to be… attacked. Magus… leading army in… they're counting on… counting on… some sort of… traitor."

The badly exhausted and wounded centaur collapsed unconscious. Lowe was already up and examining him. The blue-haired healer looked up and said grimly, "He's in bad shape. It seems as though he's been pushing to the limit of his strength. The wound was already bad enough, but he didn't even take time to rest except for sleeping. And a fever's broken out. This may be beyond my skill to heal."

Nick arched a brow at the healer. "Wouldn't sleeping be the best rest he could achieve?"

Lowe shot back, "What I meant was, he kept pushing himself to the end of his strength before collapsing after using it up. Sleep is good, but the way he's been going on, the effect is somewhat mitigated."

Max shouted, "NO! I uh… you, yes you there."

Slade the healer asked uncertainly, "Uh… did you um, want something?"

"I remember when… when Ridion was dying you had some sort of flask with liquid in it… Where'd you get it? I know you don't have any more with you but maybe we could…"

Slade frowned, "I didn't tell you already?"

"Tell me what?"

"Well that is that Graham and I were captured by this fellow called Cellion."

Max looked confused, "Cellion but I thought… wasn't he the one who captured you?"

Ian said dryly, "More or less."

Max looked back, "I thought you two were merely scouting?"

Graham broke in, "We were and then we were ambushed and overwhelmed. Cellion had us tortured by a lizardman named Slit. Anyway one day the door opened and instead of Cellion, Slit, or one of their cronies there was this… thing in the doorway. It was," he gestured vaguely, "power emanated from it the way heat does from a fire."

Max's face suddenly became very intense. He said in a hard voice, "Can one of you describe him?"

Slade nodded and said, "Tall, pale-ish skin with a faint purple tinge, strong bones, hard looking, sort of black leathery wings on the back, dark eyes."

Mae head shot up her eyes colder than any had ever seen them, "Galm," she muttered.

Slade practically choked with surprise, "WHAT?"

Max nodded, "Yes that's him all right. Only… why would he help you?"

Tao said, "Well I've suspected that he might be working for both sides somewhat."

Max murmured, "Go on."

"He killed the king and Varios after we had killed Balbazak. Kane would've died fighting Ramaladu but Galm caused the Lazer Eye to explode. He left the Chaos Breaker behind so that you could use it. Everything that he's done has either taken us down the path, equipped us, or whatever into fighting Mishalea."

Max nodded, "I see your point, but why?"

Nick interrupted, "Fascinating as this all is don't we have something more important to discuss?"

Max glared, "This could be-"

"I am of course referring to the fact that Alterone is about to fall. I've not been involved in war on Rune for quite some time, but I already understand of what strategic importance the kingdom has. It's rich and it's practically on top of Guardiana, whose military has all been sacked by Runefaust's invasion! And it's got a secret path to Rindo and Manarina where vicious fighting for ultimate control still rages. And you can say that it's not important? On top of that we have Zalbard to deal with and I wouldn't take a Greater Devil lightly if I were you. And we have to establish those better vantage points of yours, and that means we'd have to split our forces into thirds to accomplish anything!"

Max muttered, "Well I…" he appealed to Oddler, "How many people would be necessary to take Zalbard? As a minimum?"

"Well you'll need at least ten. Including myself."

Gort immediately said, "Ah'm goin' where yare goin' Oddler."

Max finally said, "We may have to abandon Alterone. We… we can't afford to send troops_-"

Anri protested, "But as Nick said Alterone is vital to us! And even if it weren't… it's our ally. I don't take the oath that I made lightly. We must protect it. And if it were taken then Guardiana…"

Max hesitated and then said, "Let's… let's take a break from this and then I'll divide up the tasks."

---

Tao was walking. She personally couldn't see what was taking Max so long. It was quite simple, send a small party to help Alterone, take the ten that Oddler thought they needed to have a chance against Zalabard and leave the others to work on the camp. What was so hard to understand about that?

It was a cool evening, but her tent was hot and stuffy so she enjoyed walking out in the air. Humming slightly she nodded and smiled to Domingo who floated down to her. After a moment she realized he was talking to her. She gave him her full attention and then wondered what could make Domingo of all people actually… fidget?

"Um… Tao… I uh, that is to say… I don't… what does one say… well I want to… to talk to A… but…"

She blinked and then asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I uh… never mind."

He whizzed off. Tao just stood there staring after him. And although it was dark she was pretty sure he was blushing.

She kept walking and then snuck up to Max's tent. Maybe she could catch him alone and finally come to terms with him. She heard him talking so she hesitated and listened.

"I… I… I don't want to. It has to be this way."

With a cold shock Tao recognized _Anri's_ voice. Her eyes misted over with fury. Anri.

Max, "That won't work. I, Anri…

"I know."

Tao turned away one thought echoing over and over again in her mind. _He chose her, he chose her, he chose her_. She had certainly heard enough to be sure of that. It wasn't fair. What could Anri possible have that…

Hatred such as she had never known flooded her veins. Hot and cold all at once she felt this hatred for Anri, for Max… for everything they stood for. A thirst for vengeance burned icily inside of her as the whirlwind caught her in its bitter grasp. And she knew that her soul would never be at peace again.

_Max…_

She felt tears misting her eyes. If only it was as easy as hatred. The pain, the pain was so much worse. Why? Why?

Natasha ran up and said, "Max is calling to finish the meeting I…" she paused and then asked, "Is anything wrong? You look awful."

Tao just mutely shook her head.

Back at the council Max said tersely, "Luke, Hans, Alef, and Torasu will go to help at Alterone. We can't spare anyone else. Ian, Ridion, Gort, Oddler, Musashi, Hanzou, Slade, Mae, and Tao are all with me in taking down Zalbard. Prince Nick, you'll have authority here with Deanna while we're all gone."

He flashed a quick smile, "Let's get going."

---

Magus stood on the wall top of Alterone looking cheerful. His soldiers were slaughtering those incompetent bumblers. The whole city was in his grasp.

The king knelt down weeping, "This… this wasn't part of our agreement! I promised to surrender to you. Not to help you kill my people!"

Magus grinned, "And you believed me? Why should I leave your military alive to plot behind my back?"

"Magus… please? My…my people…"

His voice trailed off and Magus whistled happily. The city would be taken and he would be the new lord of it, in charge of toppling Guardiana. Mishalea had promised and Magus knew she would keep her word. Just as her punishments were severe, she also rewarded loyalty richly. He would not disappoint his generous mistress.

General Torl of Alterone stared helplessly. His second, Lieutenant Haiden ran up and shouted, "Sir, you've got to get out of here sir."

"Are you an idiot? We have to beat them back!"

"It's already a lost cause sir. I'll keep them busy with my division as long as I can, but if you don't flee there won't be anyone to organize a resistance!"

There were tears in his eyes as he said, "Take down those bastards for me Haiden. Good-bye."

And he turned and ran without looking back. Haiden shouted, "Form up battalion!"

And his woefully out-numbered and pitifully equipped soldiers marched forward to their bloody fate even as Magus continued whistling his happy tune.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19:  
Tears Perchance For Blood?

"The Shining Force is fast approaching my lord. Just as we planned."

"Excellent. How many?"

"Our scouts report that there are eleven of them exactly."

"Only eleven? How disappointing."

There was a pause and Zalbard muttered to himself, "They must be very confident to challenge me with only elven…" his voice trailed off and there was a faintly worried expression on his face.

His right hand, a knight called Mal, coughed slightly. The Greater Devil's gaze flashed straight to his subordinate as he snapped, "Well then? Out with it. What do you want?"

"Are we… are we still to follow the original plan my Lord?"

"Of course we are. This is better than I would've hoped. You can take them down yourself without any interference from me."

"Am I to take it, my lord, that you are still entertaining the notion of retreating into the shrine then?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"I… must protest my lord. Take some of my soldiers with you in case the plan backfires. You should be guarded at all costs."

Zalbard said dismissively, "We've already had this conversation Mal. And it was closed."

"But I-"

"You heard my order! If things don't go well I'll lend you a hand, now get out of my sight and finish preparing for their arrival!" Zalbard's tone was shriek and spittle flew from his mouth.

The knight bowed his head and murmured, "Yes my lord." He quietly retreated leaving Zalbard to consider whatever so obviously was plaguing his mind. Mal had had the enormous honor and privilege of serving the Greater Devil for years and he did not intend to disappoint his generous master now.

It was unlike him though, to be so reckless. That above all else was what had convinced Mal that there was some sort of problem. He shared his master's scorn for the fact that so few were coming to face them and thought that he could definitely take a mere eleven. The problem was that if his master grew to expect that these things could be dealt with so easily he would become dangerously reckless.

Stepping outside of the shrine now, he issued orders. Mal had a subdued nature, but in battle he was vicious. And not one of those fatherless goat-molesters would get into the shrine if he could do anything about it.

---

Zalbard collapsed into a sitting position against the wall. He felt completely exhausted and yet filled with an endless nervous energy. His cold yellow eyes gleamed with shrewdness. All the same there was a wild look just below the surface behind that calm and ruthless intelligence.

It was the _plan_ that had clutched his soul and now played upon his nerves. The plan. Nothing could go wrong with the plan… An arrogant strategy some might have called it. Zalbard did not discount that. He could not discount it. Geshp had treated _him_ arrogantly, had assumed that Zalbard would not see this chance, had assumed that Zalbard would be contented as Geshp's man for the rest of his days. Geshp had miscalculated, but surely Zalbard would not. Surely not. All of the factors, all of the elements were known to him, in his control, in his hands. He just had to close his fist.

_Doubtless Geshp thought the same. _

He trembled like a leaf in the spring breeze. His body was sharper, leaner, and harder, than it had ever been. His cheeks were drawn in revealing his sharp and high bones. He couldn't explain the sudden change in himself, but now more than ever he saw his dream clearly.

The Shining Force, defeated at his feet. In his hand he bore the Chaos Breaker and used it to execute his enemies. He would return then and slay Lord Zeon with the sword, and Geshp, even Odd-Eye would be helpless before him. Tantalizingly close he reached out to touch it… and was snapped abruptly back to reality.

The Greater Devil took several deep breaths thinking to himself, _Hurry, damn you!_

---

Max and the others paced through the forest, pressing on towards the shrine. He was up front with Mae and Ian, both of whom had insisted on guarding him. It was slightly disconcerting, but he had realized for the first time that he was a symbol, a talisman for all who believed in a free Rune.

Oh the others in the force would know where the credit lay, but even they looked up to him as a leader who could be trusted and respected, as a man who would always make the right decision.

Just about now he found it hard to live up to.

In the end he had agreed to let Diane come with them as well. Before they had left Oddler had argued eloquently of the need for an archer to defeat Zalbard, and that was without the risk of trying to take on his guards without one. So Max had finally caved in and taken Diane with them.

He had arranged the rest of the group so that Tao and Slade both were close to the middle where they'd be protected and could be called upon fairly quickly if an ambush occurred. He had Gort, Oddler, and Musashi all in spread around Tao and Slade as extra protection with Hanzou and Ridion bringing up the rear.

He had originally wanted Ridion and Musashi switched, however, given how readily Musashi quarreled with Hanzou he thought it prudent to separate them. Diane was their eyes, she went ahead of everyone else for scouting purposes, and then came back to guide them more cautiously if there was need.

Max sighed wearily feeling the weight of leadership pressing down sharply upon him. It was a moment before he realized that Ian was speaking. "What was Varios like?"

Max peered quizzically at Ian, wondering where the question had come from, but he answered readily enough. "He was always very polished. Polite… and I never heard him use an unkind word. He… he was the first to truly accept me in Guardiana. And he was always willing to listen. Most of all though he treated everyone with respect. And everybody returned that respect, from the loftiest aristocrat to the lowliest peasant."

After a moment Max ventured, "Why?"

Ian finally replied, "I've heard everybody talk about him. He must have been a great man…" He looked up and admitted, "I was homesick. He sounds very much like the Elder and I wanted something to ease that particular burden."

They were silent again for several minutes. Ian hesitated and then asked, "Did you ever meet King Ramaladu?"

"Ah. Yes, I met him twice. I accompanied Varios to Runefaust four times actually, but two of them were just standard state visits so Ramaladu rarely involved himself personally. To tell the truth I didn't like him much. He was a good king actually, but I found him to be arrogant. Superior. Well superior through antagonistic inferiority."

"I missed that one."

"Well he was superior in manner, but I think he believed that Runefaust was better than other countries as a general rule and that he resented the fact that it had never expanded beyond its traditional holdings. It made him cold towards other nations. He was always polite, but with an edge. And his difficulties with accepting the fact that Runefaust was small probably made him feel inferior."

"Yes I see. I'd imagine in retrospect it makes a good deal of sense that Mishalea was able to corrupt him then. Did you meet any of the others?"

"I never met Balbazak before in my life. And the rumors I heard about him didn't make me particularly keen to meet him anyway. He was always described as vicious, a brute. I met Mahato several times. He was in charge of the basic administrative details of the government, and he usually dealt with Varios in Ramaladu's place. I liked him. He was smooth and had the interest of the people above the interest of power. That of course marked the end of his life. Mishalea wouldn't leave someone like him in power, so no; it didn't surprise me to hear he had been assassinated. I met General Elliot once and he seemed to be a fellow warrior to me. Very noble, very proud. I often wondered what happened to him after his defeat. If he survived I bet he could bring Runefaust out of turmoil."

Max took a deep breath, "I always saw Kane at least once. Usually three or four times though."

Ian asked, "Did you ever suspect that Mishalea was behind the plot?"

Max said bitterly, "No. I'd barely even heard of her when the war first broke out. We… I could only assume Ramaladu had gone insane. I thought it probably had to do with his resentment over Runefaust's borders, but I never thought a man could become that sickly obsessed. We did have a fair number of ancient legends collected at the library, but I'm not very good with reading, and I didn't have a reason to be interested in those. I did hear of her once, from Kane, but he only muttered her name under his breath. I suspect it was during the time he was planning to flee to Hassan."

Ian nodded slowly and lapsed into silence.

---

Slade marched onward. He hadn't meant to listen to the sad, subdued conversation that nephew and uncle had just had, but they weren't going to lengths to keep it quiet. It reminded him of his childhood. He had been born in the typical sort of peasant village that one would expect to find in Cypress. And a sickness had carried off the rest of his family when he was just twelve. So he had dedicated his life to skills of healing and it had brought him a place of honor in the Thames village. Until Warderer had invaded anyway.

Taking a deep breath he sped forward and caught up with Max. The leader of the Shining Force looked at him, his face puzzled. The swordmaster watched him intently.

Plucking up the courage, Slade squeaked, "I… that is Sir… I have no wish to intrude upon a private conversation… but I have to ask: Why did you bring me along with you? As your healer that is? I mean there were quite a few others in the camp, ones who were probably better qualified than I…"

Max shrugged. "Normally I would've taken Lowe. I would not, however, trust any other healer to bring Arthur out of danger, so I had to leave him. And I like you. Quite a bit, besides you're in a position to give me a lot of interesting information. So let's start with Galm. Are you sure you can't remember anything else?"

"Well not really. As I say the door opened and he stood there. He gave us that flask and it restored the better part of our strength. He then give us some kind of wooden striking weapon, that was far more effective than I would have guessed, and after we finished we found a vine that he had told us about and in the commotion found our way back to you. That's all."

"Hmm… so it would appear that Tao is right. He certainly doesn't want us to die, not yet at any rate. But as he's such a powerful Vandal, what would Mishalea mean to him?"

Ian said dryly, "She's smart."

Max ignored that. Instead he asked, "What about Prince Nick? How does Cypress as a whole feel about him?"

Slade laughed, "Now there's a vicious question. As far as the prince is concerned… well it's mixed. Just about everybody blames him for Warderer's attack and occupation of Cypress. On the other hand everybody assures themselves that he'll heroically charge in and drive Warderer out."

"What about you personally?"

"What is the point of all this emotional speculation?"

"I wanted to know, that's all. Although I'd guess by your dodge that you consider him to be an unmitigated ass."

"If you really want to know, then yes, I think he's a bit of an arrogant bastard. But I also think that he's got the right idea. Mishalea may have been behind the current crisis, but can you really afford to ignore an enemy as powerful as Iom?"

Ian replied, "Well we'll never know how things would've turned out, now that they've all formed an alliance."

Slade laughed again. "I'll grant you that one. So tell me swordmaster, what made you appear here in Rune?"

Ian said distantly, "I've been looking for someone."

Slade looked at him intently, but the young man didn't say anything. Max had a far-off look in his eyes as he murmured, "So the people of Cypress can't be counted on…"

Feeling slightly irritated Slade retorted, "They formed a resistance didn't they?"

Ignoring the rhetorical question Max frowned. His gaze became even more distant and Slade, recognizing dismissal, slipped back off to his own position.

---

Mae brooded. In all her life she never felt as depressed as she did now. Listening to Max and Ian's conversation was almost as painful as being left to her own thoughts. The death of her father had taken its toll on her, the pain shutting her out from a world she loved.

Max treated Ian so much so the way that Varios had treated her that it hurt to listen. But in the pain there was a brief relax of guilt, the guilt she had carried ever since seeing her father murdered.

Her face stony, she felt like running somewhere, anywhere to sob her heart out and gain comfort. There was no one to help her though, no one at all. She took a deep breath and then focused on the two things that were all she had left in her life: Her love and devotion to Max and focusing on the battle. Fighting was the work she did after all.

She must not show pain or weakness. Mae knew by now that her retreat from the world gave her, or so the others thought an endless resolve so that she was always as a silent pillar, bolstering them with her own strength. And so she continued to hide her emotions, wondering if any of them would see through her mask to the tears that she shed.

_Probably not. My life's made me good at hiding emotion._ She was almost startled by the amount of bitterness in the single thought. She let her mind wander and it returned, as it inevitably did, to the day her father had been murdered.

_"Sire!" _

_It was raining. The sky was dark and wind perpetually blew. Guardiana had been at war with Runefaust for almost an entire year now. They hadn't been making much progress until Max, her father's apprentice, had led some of his friends and defeated Lord Kane. _

_Mae had heard that Kane was Max's brother and wondered what strength of will it had taken to fight a brother that he had inevitably loved. Even now she studied Max wondering why her father had chosen him.  
_

_True she liked him, but he was after all, a mere peasant with a certain gift for swordplay. Her attention was diverted by the guardsman's cry. She looked up and studied each face in turn. The king was weary, but full of hidden reserves of strength. His daughter Anri was nowhere in sight. _

_Her father was expressionless, no doubt waiting to see what the news would be. Max was slightly wide-eyed as though he was shocked, Mae thought with a touch of contempt. Lord Ward's face just tightened. Mae had never really cared for Lord Ward. He was a middle-aged, humorless man who tended to be extremely conservative and close-minded. _

"_Sire," croaked the guard, breaking in on Mae's thoughts, "Sire the Cyprian emissaries have arrived." _

_Ah. That explained it. For months now the Crown had been in deep negotiations with the Kingdom of Cypress about various trade agreements. In the end it had been agreed to send negotiators to Guardiana to discuss the situation face to face. The King, now in the middle of a costly and senseless war, viewed the success of the negotiations as a necessary political maneuver. _

_The king's brow cleared and he said in his strong voice, "Of course. Please convey the emissaries of Cypress straight here, or have them go to there rooms first if they'd rather rest. They are to be treated with every courtesy." _

_The guard bowed and said quietly, "At once, Your Grace." _

_The king turned and commanded, "My dear Lord Ward, please send for Councilor Nova, and my daughter the Princess Anri as well." _

_Ward hesitated and then asked, "Are you sure that it is wise Your Grace to have the princess present? She does not, as you know, have much experience in matters of diplomacy." _

"_And how," countered the king, "is she to gain experience without being introduced to such matters first hand, Lord Ward?" _

"_If you insist my king," he relented with bad grace. "I must, however, request that," his mouth twisted slightly and as he continued there was a hint of a sneer in his voice, "Master Max and the Lady Mae will kindly withdraw themselves from this chamber. I do not believe that they are suited for such… delicate negotiations." _

_The King replied mildly, "I was not aware that Master Max or Lady Mae had any qualities that would hinder the talk. Indeed, is it not our duty to educate the young for the continued well-being of the future of Guardiana?" _

"_Oh very well," snapped Ward. He turned and said rudely to a passing maid, "Go fetch the councilor and Princess Anri would you?" and then settled against the wall a scowl further twisting his ordinarily sour countenance. _

_Only moments later did Princess Anri and Councilor Nova enter the room. Mae knew the Princess fairly well, she supposed Anri was the closest thing to a friend that she had. Mae didn't socialize much. She found neither usefulness nor pleasure in interacting with most people. _

_Nova was old and care-worn, but still vigorous and of all of the officials at the castle he was the greatest scholar. He read up on ancient legends as much as possible and always spoke with visitors about rumors of ancient books in various places. _

_Three soldiers of Cypress entered the room in resplendent armor that looked to be gold. They stopped and the one in the middle took two paces forward and said politely, "The Throne of Cypress greets the Crown of Guardiana." _

_The king stood and bowed replying with equal courtesy, "The Crown of Guardiana extends its welcome to the Throne of Cypress." _

_The lead Cyprian soldier said calmly, "I am prepared to settle this matter right now. We are aware that the power of Guardiana is awesome, but what you offer is no better than slavery to our people. Rather than attack us, as you have Runefaust, it seems you have taken to false diplomacy." It seemed as though the soldier would have gone on, but the king rose quickly, his face wrathful. _

"_That is a tissue of lies! Runefaust attacked us! You have nothing to do with this war! This meeting is about trade agreements!" _

"_Trade agreements designed to enslave our people." _

_The king roared, "I'll not have this treachery! Who put you up to this? Who? The king of Cypress wouldn't send a pack of peons just to insult me!" _

_One of the other soldiers looked at their leader and said in a shocked voice, "What is this? We were not sent to speak of this! We are to formalize trade agreements!" _

_Ignoring his subordinate the leader pressed on, "In the name of the throne I declare war upon Guardian- OOF!" _

_The other soldier cried out, "This is treason! Take away this false messenger, I pledge my life to clear away such lies!" _

"_Shut it you fool! What do you know of the law/" _

_The lead soldier raised his hands up but Nova shouted, "I sense magical emanations! Reveal yourself wizard!" _

_The lead soldier sneered, "It was time to end this charade anyway. Paezorta! Eiku! Now!" _

_The two leapt out of the shadows and with knifes fell upon the other two soldiers of Cypress, killing them both with merciless strokes. The form of the other one blurred and it became a woman, in dark robes. _

"_My name is Mishalea, old man. And now you're going to answer some questions." _

_Speaking for the first time Max said hoarsely, "Mi… Mishalea? But I've heard of that name before!" _

"_Ah." A slight smile crept up the dark elf's face curling her lips as she said, "I can see you have never properly heard of me. I have heard a great deal about you though, Lord Max." _

_Varios hissed, "Don't try and mess with our minds, sorceress!" _

"_Enough talking! Or do you really want to me to force what I want out of you?" _

_Just as Mae tensed up to spring the whole room darkened. She could feel… power emanating from some unseen source. A deep voice said, "No Mishalea. I will not have you cheat prophecy." _

_A man appeared, man that is for the lack of a better word. And so Mae had her first sight of Galm the Vandal. An orb of energy blasted from his hand and thudded dully into Mishalea. The dark elf fell to her knees and whispered in a voice full of venom, "Damn… damn you Galm!" _

_Galm turned to face the throne and took a step forward. Varios sprang up and cried, "I will not allow you to harm the King." _

"_Don't do this, Varios. You're still exhausted from your battle with Balbazak the Beastly." _

_As he said this Galm took another step forward. Various, ignoring the warning, lunged at him. Mae and Mishalea screamed at the same moment, "NO!" _

_It was too late. Galm had gutted Various with a glowing green sword. For just a moment Mae was frozen and in this moment Galm acted again. Another orb of energy formed in his hands, a larger one. It flew straight into the King's chest slamming him back into his throne. _

_For a moment the King managed to rise, but then he stiffened up and crumpled to the ground. _

_Suddenly Mae was charging screaming, "You BASTARD! YOU BASTARD!" Galm turned casually and slammed his fist into her head. Mae went spinning across the floor barely conscious. From far away she heard Galm's arrogant voice saying, "Now that my work here is done I will go." _

_And then she blacked out entirely. _

With a sudden shudder the centaur pulled her mind away from such memories. Or she tried to. When she had come back to the world of consciousness Max had told her the rest. Mishalea had killed Nova and almost killed Ward out of pure viciousness, and then left Eiku's army to crush the city.

The plan would have worked if Max didn't have friends in almost every part of the world who had come together then to aid him. When they came from behind the army and the Guardiana warriors came from the front a single decisive thrust through the center had scattered the army and broken what would have been a perfect plan. And Max wielded the sword that had killed her father.

It occurred to Mae suddenly that ever since Mishalea's initial victory the Shining Force had battled each attempt to a bloody stalemate. She wasn't sure why, Eiku was extremely intelligent. Maybe the only thing protecting them was High Commander Lynx blocking half of Eiku's moves…

---

Tao battled herself fiercely. Just watching Max in the daylight brought confusion and an uncharacteristic hesitancy to her. Why did it have to be so hard to decide? She had rashly hated Max only last night, but… she loved him.

Yes he was _hers_. The very thought brought another surge of dark jealously to her for Anri, Anri who had always been her best friend! She contemplated the princess with a mild contempt and tried so hard to understand why she despised herself so. Why? She felt ashamed of herself. She had never responded in this way before. Gods be good, was she turning into a monster to contemplate her best friend so? And what of the others, whom she was short of patience with and insulted?

_What has happened to me?_

---

Musashi had been born in a miserable little peasant village east of Rudo. All his life he had loyally served his employers and lived by his honor, his code. The suffering everywhere appalled him. He didn't understand why Max wouldn't simply negotiate with Mishalea. Surely a reasonable treaty could be reached that would appease both sides. Ah, but Max was a strange one. Yes, he was respectable… but he didn't truly understand. None of them understood. It was odd… so odd.

He hated Hanzou because the ninja represented a way of life that was the very opposite of Musashi's own code. How could he respect something so wantonly wrong? The two of them had chosen different paths, and if Hanzou was right then Musashi was meaningless and what he lived by was meaningless.

_All I want is to stop the suffering…_

---

Magus sat comfortably in the throne that had once been the king of Alterone's seat. He tore ravenously at the roasted fish the royal kitchen had prepared for him and gulped greedily at the fine, fine damson wine that had been found in the king's personal stock.

Why shouldn't he indulge anyway? It was the king's food and now that he had won Mishalea had promised him rule over the city, so as far as he was concerned he was the king. He nodded to the soldiers that had chained Haiden, the former lieutenant to General Torl, whom he had managed to capture alive.

The former king stood dejectedly to the left of the throne at Magus's constant beck and call. Wiping his lips daintily on a silken napkin Magus said cheerfully, "You really must have some of this my dear Haiden!"

Haiden glared. Magus ignored him and said to the King, "Go roast me a partridge."

"Bu-"

"Shut up! I said go roast me a partridge!"

The king opened his mouth, shut it, and finally turned to a common soldier and spat, "Go… tell the chef to prepare a partridge for… for His Grace's pleasure."

Grinning like a child with a new toy Magus asked, "Now then Haiden, I'd be most obliged if you'd tell me where General Torl is."

"He's gone to do some fishing. Sir."

"Come now come now, none of that. I want the truth. You wouldn't be lying to me now would you?"

Haiden replied coldly, "This is pointless. You're wasting your time on me. Either kill me or let me go."

"I doubt that very much my fine fellow. You know who I am? I am Magus! I am Mishalea's psychological expert. I am her trap thinker. And now I will find your weak side. I'll unlock you."

Magus jumped up and started to sing in a cracked, warbling voice, "OH HOW I'D LIKE TO LOOK! INTO YOUR LITTLE BOOK! THE ONE THAT HAS YOUR LOCK AND KEYYYYYYYYY!"

Haiden, looking seriously disturbed, shouted, "You mean you were her principal bootlicker. Her useless, stupid-"

He got no further. Magus leapt down, his face congested with rage as he growled, "Don't call me that! Don't you dare call me stupid!"

He seized his fish and strode straight up to Haiden and started hitting him with the fish. Bits of the poor dead animal flew everywhere and Magus threw what was left of it behind him and it thwacked the King in the face. He seized Haiden about the throat and started shaking him muttering under his breath, "You little-"

He felt something dragging him away and heard voices distantly, "Lord Magus! You wanted the man kept alive for information."

Finally regaining his few wits, Magus panted, "Yes, yes of course. Lock him up again with no food or water. That'll teach him to call me stupid."

As the half-senseless Haiden was dragged away Magus muttered under his breath, "This is no good. I'm sobering up."

He snapped at the king, "Get me some more wine!"

---

Max nodded and said, "All right everybody. You know your positions. On Diane's signal we charge and take them down."

There were brief nods by everybody and they slid to their designated spot. Diane, high up in an elm, took her time selecting a target. She carefully aimed at a gray-cloaked mage. How she hated pompous mages. They had to be brought down.

She adjusted the bow to the left and up just a fraction, and fired. With a hiss and a solid _thunk _arrow landed in the heart of the mage who keeled over.

Immediately a knight all covered in black armor shouted, "Slaughter them."

Max burst out of the undergrowth right in front with Mae and Ian flanking him and charged straight forward into a platoon of five swordsmen.

Max jumped up and slashed downward with his sword. The warrior raised his shield and deflected the blow quickly. Mae's long lance was making short work of the warriors, two already dead and Ian had killed the other two, already moving to engage a gargoyle.

Max lunged forward with a strong thrust, but the warrior shifted and lashed out, cutting his arm. Recoiling slightly, Max crouched in a defensive position only to hear another hiss and the warrior fell, an arrow in-between his eyes.

Slade ran up to him and whispered, "Heal." Max's skin flowed back together showing no evidence of a wound. He gave Slade a quick grin and dashed off, killing a lizardman on the way.

Musashi and Ridion fought back to back and already had left eight corpses lying on the ground. Now they were beset by fifteen more warriors. Ridion stumbled, and cried out in a panic when Ian blasted into the ranks of Mal's army like a thunderbolt. Every slash hit its mark; his face was sharp and focused.

Hanzou dropped from trees and instantly slashed his enemy's throats. Having just felled a sniper he saw a movement to his left, and turned only to feel a lance tearing straight into him. The ninja went flying into the trunk of a tree.

Slade ran over to heal him, but an enemy mage emerged from the undergrowth and lashed out with his staff, and Slade fell with a dull grunt. Smirking in a self-satisfied manner the mage raised his arms, and then gave a startled cry as one of them fell away. He gazed in shock at Gort, who had just made his arm a stump. Gort grinned at him, and then neatly decapitated the shocked mage.

Gort heard a cry and turned to see Oddler, an arrow in his sword arm, being menaced by six lizardmen. With a roar of fury the dwarf ran forward his axe loosely swinging at his side. Mistake. He tripped on a hidden net and went sprawling into the dirt. Even as he pushed himself up he felt an arrow thwack into him, and the dull sleepiness of a narcotic.

Max looked around himself. Mae was already incapacitated, Ridion and Musashi hemmed in with the bulk of his forces. Tao was only sparingly casting magic for fear of a forest fire.

And Mal was coming toward him. Taking a low crouch Max croaked, "You want a one-on-one fight?"

An amused edge in his voice Mal said, "It's not my choice. Assuming you did defeat me you'd win. There's a spell linking their lives with mine. If I die so do they."

And so saying he reared up and lashed out. From the start Max was at a disadvantage. Mal had amazing strength and with the longer range that his lance afforded him, he could hold Max off with ease.

Max jumped up into the air, but then angled down at a slant so that he hit the ground rolling, and thrust upward, into Mal's belly.

Max stumbled backwards as Mal screamed with fury and came straight him. He thrust his lance out, and it was like seeing a mountain move. Desperately Max brought up the Chaos Breaker, but as it got caught on the tip of the lance it went flying, and the sheer force behind the thrust sent Max sprawling defenseless to the ground.

Mal raised his lance for the killing blow. In one frozen instant Tao saw Max dead on the field.

"BLAZE," she shrieked, "BLAZE, BLAZE, BLAZE!"

It was as though a lake of fire opened up beneath Mal to swallow him. As he went rearing off balance the ball of fire coming down from the air struck him. A rainfall of meteors was forcing him down into that deadly lake. The knight opened his mouth, but then another ball struck him and he was sent spinning into the fire completely.

Max stood up shakily and looked around. Mal hadn't been lying. All of his surviving soldiers stiffened up and just tumbled over. Ridion, Musashi, and Tao all ran over to him. Diane jumped down from her tree and apologized, "My pardons for the lack of cover. I stopped firing, because I only have two arrows left. And according to Oddler, we'll need one to defeat Zalbard."

With the other four helping him, it took only a few minutes to awaken the sleeping ones. Slade said shakily, "I don't know that I've the strength for any healing."

Max's mouth tightened, "No matter. We'll just go in anyway." He turned to Oddler and said, "We'll cover you and Diane, don't worry."

The shrine was cool, made of stone with strange patterns on them. A harsh voice said, "You took your time getting here."

Max replied coldly, "We got a little sidetracked thanks to your underling." As he spoke Oddler and Diane crept away into the shadow, and Gort did the same thing, only in the other direction.

Zalbard stepped into the light. There was a barrier of electrical energy about him, but otherwise he looked the same as always. The blue robes, the pale green skin, the yellow eyes, the sharp bones. Yes he was very much the same.

The Greater Devil made a gesture as though he was throwing something. Max gave a cry and fell to his knees, encased in lightning as was the rest of the force. The Chaos Breaker, which he had retrieved before coming into the shrine, slid out of his grasp.

Zalbard laughed, "Were you expecting a fight? What a fool you are! I will, however, take this." He picked up the Chaos Breaker. "What an appropriate gift for Lord Zeon."

Oddler whispered to Diane, "You see right there, just above his shoulder? The barrier doesn't cover that spot. Well it can, but he couldn't use it as long if it did. Aim your arrow so that it goes through that gap and tear his hood off. I'll do the rest."

"What about the others?"

"They'll still be trapped until Zalbard dies. Leave that to me."

Diane raised her bow and after a slight adjustment fired. The arrow went through the gap perfectly. Zalbard instinctively turned his head to avoid being hit in the neck, and the arrow tore through the back of the hood so that it went floating off.

Immediately Gort gave a roar and charged. Zalbard turned and rose up his arms, summoning a ball of lightning even bigger than the dwarf.

"NO!" screamed Oddler. He burst out and a pure beam of white energy lashed out, striking Gort in the chest so that he fell to the ground, just missing the orb of lightning.

Zalbard spun around and gasped, "You!"

Before he could say any more Oddler was upon him and stuck his sword in Zalbard's stomach growling, "This will hurt."

Zalbard fell to ground and gave a sharp cry. The sword had only wounded him, but it was bad. Gort stumbled to his feet and gasped, "Yaer… yaer not who yer say yae are, are yae? Yae're… yae're the one called Odd-Eye aren't yae?"

A faint smile came to Oddler's face, and he started to open his mouth when Zalbard stumbled upright shrieking, "My master will kill you all!"

He lunged for the Chaos Breaker, but Oddler was faster. He seized the hilt of his sword and drove it up through Zalbard's gut until it emerged from between his shoulder-blades. He then deliberately pulled it out.

Shuddering in death throes, Zalbard fell to the ground. Oddler gave a very slight bow, and then vanished.


	20. Chapter 20: Fractures

Chapter 20:  
Fractures

Zeon knew the instant Zalbard died. There was a presence that filled the air, the earth that filled existence itself. Power recognizes power. Even now he could feel the essence, that vital quality, emanating from Mishalea. From Warderer. From that smirking Vandal Rilix.

It was a sudden explosive absence of Zalbard's presence that alerted the King of the Devils to the death of his disciple. He might have been the weakest of them, he might have served with less distinction than some of the others, but he had been Zeon's disciple nonetheless, and that merited quick retribution.

Unfortunately the Devil King, though he would never have admitted it, was at something of a loss as how to go about punishing the Shining Force. By the darkness itself, how could he do such a thing if they had found a weakness in the Hood of Thunder?

And that was on top of other concerns. Agreeing to this alliance meant that he could study Mishalea and Warderer both in so much greater detail. It was essential that he learn as much as possible so that he could kill them once the Shining Force was safely dead. He knew little about Mishalea although he had directly and indirectly battled her for eons. There was even less that he knew about Warderer.

He was just some crazy upstart, from who knows where, that had sprung up suddenly a few hundred years ago. He had quickly established himself, making alliances in some quarters, killing some opposition until he held the undisputed title of King of Iom.

Iom! Zeon's lip curled. Iom wasn't that powerful, he had just been fortunate enough to discover an unknown energy source which allowed him to erect an impenetrable barrier. And Warderer was a thorn in everybody's side. Zeon secretly suspected that Warderer was the most talented sorcerer he had ever known. But he was ruled by his emotions making him weak, easy meat.

There was also Zeon's incessant search for the Jewel of Evil. Long ago he had battled and defeated his greatest enemy, Mishalea's master, Darksol. But Darksol had sealed his power away in a jewel which was now called the Jewel of Evil.

His thoughts were interrupted as Advisor Geshp slid into the room. Smooth, cunning, and dishonest Geshp had carved out a nice position for himself. Zeon was beginning to wonder if Geshp was worthy of it though.

"My king, another council meeting is being called for."

Zeon snapped, "Well then tell Mishalea to blow the light. I'm not running about all the time just to suit her whims!"

"Actually the call has been issued by Warderer."

"Warderer!?"

After a momentary pause Geshp said slyly, "As he's got something to tell us then I think we should put in an appearance. Besides, we must not lose a single opportunity to spy out the intentions of our enemies. Observation of them, their habits, their cooperation, their idiosyncrasies will be our greatest weapon."

"True enough," admitted Zeon. He settled down more comfortably. "But," he said eyeing his advisor skeptically, "you yourself wouldn't come just to tell me that. You're scheming something that needs my approval."

Geshp bowed slightly. "I have, as you call it, had one of my little ideas."

Geshp's little ideas were never little, always extremely profitable, and usually the perfect answer to a situation. "What is it?"

Smiling blandly the plump devil replied, "Borders. Scouting patrols. Secure perimeters."

Zeon snorted, "I should have considered that obvious."

"I don't think you quite take my meaning sir. If we set up scouting patrols, secure the perimeters, and guard the borders I think Mishalea will have more than a little difficulty in removing our troops afterwards."

Zeon sucked in his breath in great hiss. Then he breathed, "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

Geshp attempted to smile modestly, but it came out as a grotesque leer. He continued, "I would recommend that we give charge of this to Cameela."

Irritating as she could be Geshp knew that Cameela was the obvious choice. Her dedication and training would be most valuable in such situations. And she was tenacious enough for the job.

He coughed slightly as though preparing to bargain from a position of desperation. "Also sir… may I borrow Red Baron?"

Zeon didn't even bother to look at him. "No you may not. Not until I hear an actual reason for you to need his help that is."

Geshp stared at his master for a long time. He finally changed the subject. "What are our intentions regarding the Shining Force?"

Zeon grinned, "We'll toast their good health in keeping that traitorous bitch so disorganized." More seriously he added, "Mishalea and Warderer can keep dealing with it for now. I don't have any objections to the mounting number of casualties that they've sustained. If it looks like things are getting too far out of hand _then_, and only then mind you, then we'll step in. I'm leaving Odd-Eye in charge of it."

Odd-Eye's sudden disappearance was plaguing the mind of both master and servant, though neither would admit that fact to anyone. Zeon was concerned that something was hindering his greatest servant. Geshp most like was concerned with the state of his scheme. Traitorous or not, he needed Zalbard to supplant Odd-Eye. Well, if nothing else, Zeon supposed that that was a blessing.

After a heavy moment of silence Zeon grunted, "Anything else?"

"No sir. We should probably be going now."

As they headed out of the chamber Zeon said, "For your sake I hope that Warderer has something worth listening to, to say.

---

Warderer kept his face impassive. He watched as little by little the various factions entered the shrine. Good! They were all here. He had questioned Hindel closely as to how he had gotten this information, but the Black Knight remained evasive.

Grinning suddenly the King of Iom gestured courteously to his aide, "I'm afraid I've had to call you all here for a very important matter: Treachery." He paused a moment to judge the effect his words had had and then said, "Show them what you found Hindel."

The man stepped forward and murmured an incantation. The recording of Frabell's conversation with Bazoo began. It had been edited so that it should seem that Frabell was speaking to herself.

The undead creature stared, the horror on her face growing as the compromising evidence built up. She could explain the death of the Iom soldier, she could defend herself against everything that she saw up there… but by the gods she could only do it if Bazoo was taking the blame as well. _Precisely as Hindel anticipated. Clever, that. _

It was possible that she could claim that she had and Hindel had maneuvered it, gain some credit herself. Warderer smirked heavily as he read the transparent thoughts on her face. With the information Hindel had given him, it wasn't hard to realize how she would react. With a sudden shriek of terror she ran. Moving more quickly than he had thought possible for the little devil, Geshp stuck out his foot tripping her.

Mishalea's guards seized her, hauling her upright. She looked around desperately, licking her lips, looking for any support. Her eyes froze as Mishalea met her gaze and drew her in. Never had Frabell known such presence, such allure. _Nor I, _Warderer thought, with a bitter twist to his lips. The dark elf said in a chillingly indifferent voice, "We've seen enough."

Sobbing with fear Frabell managed, "No… no it, it was not I… the wizard. It was the wizard, Bazoo, he seeks to unseat me. It is not true I tell you! The wizard, stop the wizard!" Unaware that she had started shrieking she pressed on, "His plot is working. He seeks to put us at odds, it is he who has planted this!"

And then Mishalea slapped her. It wasn't hard, it didn't hurt particularly, but it shocked her into silence. All Mishalea's strength of will had somehow communicated itself to her through that one blow.

"You are raving," was the disdainful comment. The dark elf glanced over her shoulder at Death Woldol, "You have no objections?"

"None."

Frabell, clearly in a sheer terror unlike anything she had ever known shouted desperately, "NO! It was the wizard! If you kill me he stands unopposed. It was the wizard!"

Shaking his head Bazoo replied smugly, "Easy Frabell, that won't hold."

Warderer almost laughed. This was better than a play.

Mishalea reached down to her belt and brought out the crystal shard that had always hung in it. Warderer gave a sharp hiss and Zeon's gaze narrowed with interest. Holding it up in front of her with both hands, the dark elf brought it down and stabbed towards Frabell's heart.

A shout echoed out, "Wait!"

Mishalea paused, glanced at the speaker and asked pointedly, "Well?"

Lynx flushed slightly, but held his head high and proud as he replied, "We have forgotten about the right of inquisition."

Eiku spun about and snorted, "You're not serious!"

Mishalea said thoughtfully, "Hmm… it might be," then broke off and asked, "Who here thinks it a good idea?"

Eiku snarled, "This is ridiculous! There are only two reasons why she would try to run away after seeing that. I grant you that she might be innocent, but if she was then the only reason she would run would be that she thought her evidence wouldn't be conclusive enough to override a clever fraud. Or she is guilty of the charge and lost her head at the sight of overwhelming evidence. Either way would render the inquisition a waste of time."

Lynx said, "That doesn't change the fact that all who serve the Darkness have the right of inquisition. There would be… a lack of honor in denying her that."

"It would be an extreme case of stupidity granting her that," Eiku shot back.

Mishalea considered for a moment. The right of inquisition simply allowed the darkness to sift through the mind of someone. And then if found guilty the former servant would be executed. Quite simple really, but in this case rather a waste of Warderer's time. He cleared his throat impatiently not especially caring about Mishalea's delicate attempts of diplomacy. He had brought Frabell to be killed, and he intended to get that done.

Finally she said, "In war difficult choices must be made. I ask you, as we all servants of the darkness what shall the fate of Frabell be?"

A chorus of nods, speeches, objections and opinions burst forth. Mishalea cautioned, "It would seem we have an even split…"

"But I haven't voiced an opinion yet." All eyes turned to Rilix. The Vandal croaked in a breathy whisper, "It may be that she would be useful alive… but only for a short while. So we should question her. And then kill her for treason."

All of Frabell's reserve broke down there and she fell sobbing in simple terror. Mishalea glanced at her with thinly veiled contempt. Her tone was cool, "Guards, take her away."

Two burly soldiers, Eiku's men both, dragged off the prostrate sobbing minion of Woldol.

Warderer smiled. Now that Frabell was dealt with. He eyed Mishalea coldly, prepared to drop his second little surprise.

Mishalea turned back and shrugged her graceful shoulders, "Well I wasn't planning on reconvening so quickly, but as long as we're here we may as well continue where we left off. Warderer, I want you to set up relays between Solo's fortress and the perimeter command of Cameela."

Zeon started spluttering, "But… but… how I mean… this is outrageous!"

"You were already planning to set up a perimeter command anyway weren't you?" When she got no reply she nodded and said, "Yes that's what I thought. Anyway I want Red Baron and Gepple to act as general go-betweens. Lynx and Eiku shall continue as they are. Bazoo will set up a far outlook. That's all for now. You're dismissed." She paused. "Unless of course, you had another reason for begging our indulgence, Lord Warderer?"

Warderer replied with patent insincerity, "Why no! I'm just catching up with old friends. I must admit, you old bitch, I never expected to be sleeping beneath your roof and eating at your table." He stopped and gasped. "But wait, I've already done that, haven't I? And it didn't work out so well, now did it?"

Mishalea's jaw clenched slightly as the puzzled eyes turned on her. None of the others knew of course that long ago Warderer had been welcome in Skull Castle.

Mishalea's attempt to regain control of the situation was masterful; he had to hand it to her. "Are we playing games now? They can be so confusing of course; one wouldn't want anyone to be taken unawares. Oh, incidentally, what is the state of your armies in Cypress?"

Warderer laughed out loud. "Oh that's good, very good. But why keep up the pretense? You don't care about my forces. Here I am, right before you. Tell me; doesn't it even make _your_ blood boil at the thought of finally killing me?"

Zeon said uneasily, "Warderer…"

"But maybe I'm wrong," he admitted. "Maybe nothing could warm your blood you grizzly old reptile."

There was a sudden explosive flicker of dark energy. Warderer laughed delightedly and easily countered it with some of his own.

"Stop this!" bellowed Zeon. "Or we will respond in kind!"

Mishalea snapped. "I agree. This has gone on long enough." Addressing Warderer now, "If all you wish is to incite bad feeling—"

"You wound me," he pouted at her. "Why, all I want is to have a pleasant conversation. Truth to tell, I was lucky to be able to get here today, I keep having a wealth of visitors."

Mishalea started to open her mouth then shut it, and finally asked, "Visitors?"

Warderer couldn't resist a smirk. She had doubtless decided that the conversation would go faster if she just took the bait.

"Ah, yes. Your charming High Captain keeps coming to see me. And Odd-Eye."

Mishalea reared like a snake, "Odd-Eye?"

Warderer replied casually, "Oh yes. He's not going to forgive you for that night when you sent men to assassinate him."

"WHAT!" Zeon roared. "You traitorous scu—"

The council meeting dissolved into shouting, blustering and threats.

"We must remain cal—"

"That's easy for you to say! You don't have to—"

"Even if she did attack Odd-Eye, it's none of out business."

"Watch out you spineless sycophant," warned Zeon. "You'll be next."

Mishalea looked as though her head ached. Warderer smiled. It was going so well. He'd improved, over the years, to be able to surprise her with verbal ambush now. It was delightful.

Rilix snapped, "What you do is your own business Mishalea, but I—"

"Yes. It is," she said, speaking for the first time. Most of the others stumbled at the sound of her voice.

Warderer pointed out cheerfully. "Well, not exclusively. Odd-Eye does want me to help him kill you."

Ignoring him, she pressed her point. "Are you really going to accept an unsubstantiated report from him over me?"

"Oh, that's good, very good."

Warderer shrugged knowing that the game was over now. He knew these fools. Mishalea was still more powerful and it would behoove them, at least for the moment, to follow her lead.

She continued, "Warderer, don't you have relays to set up? And I order you," she said, moving to Zeon, "To send Cameela out now. This is all."

There were murmurs of fury on the air at how deftly she had taken control of the situation and how easily, how imperiously she had ordered them off. Only Warderer spoke however. "Ah well, there you are up to your old tricks. Sending me off… whoever wins you'll be rid of one problem, eh?" He added, "Well I suppose that's what happens when you get old and forgetful."

He turned to go when Mishalea's voice stopped him. "May the winds guide you and the stars bring you back."

Warderer froze, just absolutely froze. _A blessing of the… of… of the…_ Hatred flooded his veins as he relived his moment of loss and then a ritualistic phrase that he had not heard, let alone used in years, flowed smoothly off his lips, "May your son bring you honor and- oops! It's a little late for that now isn't it?

Someone, he didn't see who, gasped at the callous reference to Mephisto. Mishalea just looked at him. Quickly the King of Iom ducked out of the room, having no taste for another staring contest with his icy adversary.

---

As the others filed out Mishalea said, "Stop. You, no you. Stay."

Paezorta looked at her inquisitively. She gestured to a seat. As he settled himself he began, not bothering to ask permission to speak. "You are well satisfied with this I hope?"

"Oh it's a clever enough notion, I'll grant you that. If we set up a network and make each side dependant on the other… well that should curb some of the plotting. I would, however appreciate knowing how you came be the idea." She paused and poured wine for them both before continuing, "It's probably enough to make Zeon think twice before challenging me, but I'm not so sure about Warderer. He's crazy enough to ignore the ramifications of doing so." The bitterness in her voice was plain.

_Well no wonder. He's fought her for years, is upsetting everything he can, and just threw Mephisto in her face. _

Paezorta nodded, "Although I have yet to get into touch with Ridion the dwarf, I'm busy watching for other opportunities amongst the group. If one of the one's that actually knows Max can be swayed…" He silently thanked the gods that Mishalea evidently had not discovered that the attack on Ridion had been at his discretion.

"I may have something for you along that line."

The High Captain smiled, helping himself to a modest amount of the wine, "Ah, I was right then. Nosshu's intimate knowledge of Ian and his band is proving useful?"

"Quite. Although this victory is just due to regular spying. And you still haven't answered me, where did you come up with this other notion?"

"Although I sincerely regret having made little progress over the Shining Force, I have found a possible solution to another problem."

"And?" she prompted.

He grinned at her. "It's all part of the bundle of good news that I came to bring you today. I've finally found someone willing, even eager to betray Zeon."

Sipping the wine she murmured, "Although it's probably worth any price, I nonetheless feel obliged to ask: What will this friendship cost us?"

"Nothing we can't afford. And the results should be very profitable."

---

Slit the lizardman was enjoying his promotion. Life as the Supreme General was rather comfortable. Despite his heritage the half-breed was hardly stupid, so the first thing he had done upon gaining power was to secure his position.

He had found the perfect underling, who had helped him do just that. The man's name was Kre'sar. A rather powerful mage, he was eager, fanatical, and ambitious. The two of them worked together rather well. The last time Slit had spoken to his master, Lord Eiku, he had commanded him to come up with something to distract the Shining Force, hopefully something that would do some damage.

After studying the purple-robed mage for another minute he said, "I have a job for you concerning se Shining Force."

Kre'sar wore his purple robe with a hood that completely concealed his face except for the eyes. As they gleamed in a fanatical way all the time the effect was always rather chilling. As was the impression that one got when he spoke, that of a voice floating up from the depths of the hood.

"I live to serve the darkness. The Shining Force are my true enemies. Give me guidance to their destruction."

Not caring a straw about Kre'sar's convictions about the light and dark, Slit ignored the comment and instead reached for a flagon of wine.

Hood twitching the mage asked, "Is it to be a glorious charge to the slaughter, as the darkness destined it to be?"

Looking up so hurriedly that he spilt some of the wine Slit said, "No! I mean uh… not yet. I have a specific plan for you."

"I fail to understand how a plan less glorious can work?"

"Trust me on sis von. I do have a plan." He smirked heavily, now sipping at his wine. "A good von."

---

Prince Nick had been studying maps of the country all morning and finally rendered verdict. Tracing the line from the camp north he said, "The fortifications should be weakest here. And it's one of the more round-about routes that we could use. So that's where we'll attack."

Lowe stared. "Attack? Dare I point out that such an action would either be incredibly bold, or hopelessly stupid?" He grinned then added, "For your sake I'll assume that it's the former."

Nick argued, "If we strike there, and now we'll be able to deal a crippling blow to Warderer. Stopping Solo from completing his fort, and maybe even killing him would be a major victory."

Lowe replied dryly, "You're basing the information that the enemy is even in the area on uncorroborated reports and gossip. Gearing a strike force up and actually making the trip without being certain that you're going to manage something is called irresponsibility. There's another little duty for the camp leader to think of that you seem to be forgetting about: Guarding the camp."

Nick set his lips tightly and began, "I am the Prince of Cypress. I do not have to explain my commands to common—"

Lowe sighed, "Shut up would you? We all know about your pedigree by now. That's another fact that seems to have escaped your notice. Cypress is not the universe. And we are all in the same boat."

Mayfair, who had been standing at the Prince's side, interjected, "But, if the reports are true we would strike down a major enemy in a single blow."

Lowe snorted. "I grant you that. If the reports are true. But we can't bother to make an all-out attack on an area where there may or may nor be enemies when the camp is weakened so. Chu Rao might come back or one of Mishalea's officers might decide to exercise a little initiative. And what were you thinking, sending out Zylo?"

They had been arguing about that all morning as well. Nick had ordered Ken to fulfill his purpose as a scout captain and had also ordered out Zylo, a wolfman from the Bustoke region, out to scout in a different area. So far he hadn't confronted Deanna though and for once Lowe understood Nick's reluctance completely. Just looking at the man made the battle-hardened healer uncomfortable. He seemed to have more force beneath his quiet exterior than Lowe had ever met before.

Nick replied stubbornly, "I've issued an order. Max left me in charge here and therefore—"

A quiet voice interrupted, "He also left me in charge. And I agree with Lowe."

Nick glared at Deanna. Though the young man never asserted himself there was a quality to his arguments that made one feel like complying immediately. It was impossible to tell what it was, his voice, tone, timbre, eyes… Lowe had felt it himself to his consternation, but Nick? He couldn't be certain, but he thought Nick responded to the same force… and of course Nick would hate that even more, Deanna being a commoner.

Lowe practically groaned. Thankful though he was for Deanna's support, causing Nick to go off on another tangent was pointless.

The prince snapped, "You are just a peasant. _I_ am the Prince of Cypress. Though you were allowed a say in the Council my word clearly comes before your own and I order all of you to march."

Anri had been listening the whole time, not saying anything. She finally spoke, "You would abandon the camp just to soothe your own pride, Prince? That hardly sounds as noble as the pedigree you prate on about. And I happen to be the Queen of Guardiana. And I say that you're clearly nuts. What do you have to say to my own authority?"

"Max didn't say that you were to have part of a leadership at al-"

"Enough!" Deanna's voice cracked like a whip. He continued, "If you are as blind as all that Prince of Cypress then you may have your desire. I will take my group with you to see that you have enough soldiers. But don't presume to drain the entire camp. All the others stay so that you, and only you, will pay the price of this folly."

Nick flinched. It had probably been a long time since someone had dared speak to him like that, if anyone had ever done so at all. At the same time though Lowe marveled. Deanna had taken control so easily, so naturally. He had rarely felt a more powerful command, a more natural presence. Max had it, but Deanna was the only other person who had ever had this effect on Lowe. Before he could gather his wits though, the other young man had already stridden out of the tent.

The best the arrogant princeling could manage was, "Mayfair tell the others to gear up." He sounded shaken.

The process did not take very long. Nick, Ruce, Shade, Apis, Sig, Wendy, Mayfair, Claude, and Wendy were ready to leave. Deanna's group of Eric, Dawn, Natasha, Luke, and Graham were ready ahead of him.

The two leaders never looked at each other and never issued any parting commands. They simply left.

Anri leaned over and asked Lowe, "So what's this about all of our scouts missing?"

Lowe shrugged wearily. "He commanded Ken to make a scouting patrol, particularly to take a look for Max while they were at it. He took four with him, two are Ian's. I didn't protest too much, because there wasn't really anything to object to there although it was a bit peremptory to order Ken to do his job."

Anri nodded, "He probably counted on that. Probably he just wanted fewer opinions that could challenge him. And Zylo?"

Lowe snorted, "He ordered him to do a general sweep to the west. It was a stupid action, but again there wasn't all that much to argue about."

After considering for a moment Anri said, "Well we're not too badly off. Guntz is seeing to the sentries and you and I can handle the central commands well enough. How's Arthur coming? And Domingo?"

"Not well I'm afraid. Arthur that is. He seems to have contracted a fever, mostly from too little rest and practically no care for the wound. I think we can lay the blame for that directly on Lynx's shoulders. Domingo… well he's a little strange."

"He's _always_ been a little strange," Anri pointed out dryly.

"No, I mean he's not acting like himself. He seems to be… well low. Moping. Uncomfortable. I couldn't tell you what it is as he tries to act like himself whenever I attend to him, but it's like a cheap imitation of what he once was."

"Maybe it's just the war has gotten to him at last. All the butchery… how can we all be cheerful all of the time? Jogurt's death probably hit him hard too. They were close."

"I suppose so. I just can't help feeling that it's something more. I'm tired you know, Anri. So tired. All of this healing is just wearing me out. And to have to be cheerful day in and day out for everyone else's sake. It's exhausting. Gong's helping a bit though. Offered to take over looking after Domingo. And I honestly wouldn't mind a second opinion about Arthur."

"Gong… to tell you the truth Lowe I've never liked him. I don't know why I just can't help feeling that he's secretly laughing at me. For some reason I've always thought that sometimes he's my best ally and my worst enemy."

"How odd. To be perfectly frank I feel exactly the same way."

---

They had been traveling for a score of days, or at least that was what Hans had estimated. They made regular stops, but brief ones continuing on as quickly as possible to Alterone. The elf had questioned Max's wisdom in sending Torasu with them. Though it was true that they'd need a healer, he was an old man and, in Hans's opinion anyway, not up to the fight.

Luke and he had grown up in Guardiana though, had known the entire area since their childhood games of knights and monsters. And sending Alef was sound thinking, a powerful mage was always a handy thing.

And now they were taking the mountain pass. Though dangerous, it was the shortest way to Alterone and speed was vital. Magus had to be stopped before he caused even more harm and that caused Luke to push them hard.

Although Max had never said anything, Luke was clearly the intended leader of the four. Hans would follow him willingly, but he did admit, privately of course, that he had hoped for more. Hadn't he served Max just as long and well as Luke? Hadn't he fought and risked his life countless times just like Luke? Hadn't it been he who had covered Max when they fought Balbazak?

Torasu's reedy voice interrupted his increasingly dissatisfied thoughts. "I… I must take a brief rest. I… can…cannot go… any farther… until me… I catch my breath."

A hard voice, seemingly projecting from the rocks, interjected, "That might be the last thing you end up doing old man."

A man, with about twenty backing him up, stepped out of nowhere. Hans studied him with interest. The man wore armor, armor with a scratched out emblem on it. He held a sword that looked as though it had seen many battles, nicked in at least a dozen places. His face was somewhat obscured by lank hair of a red hue. His chin was covered with thick stubble and his voice was hoarse. Yet for all that, Hans felt that the man was more suited to an aristocratic appearance. There was something there in the eyes that defied his rough appearance though he did look perfectly dangerous.

The man snapped, "You're all going to answer a few a questions."

Luke eyed him coldly. "That all depends on what you've got in mind."

Ignoring the gibe the man leant forward and began, "Why are you here? Who are you? What's brought you to my territory?"

Luke said sarcastically, "We've come here to do some fishing, we're all highborn ladies and we wish to bed with you."

There were distinct sniggers amidst the ranks of the tattered band and Hans thought that he saw a sudden flash of hesitation in the man's eyes. He snarled, "I'll kill you all here if you don't answer me! What do you want?"

Torasu pushed his way forward and said, "There is no need for this. We fight when we have to, not to spoil another. We have dignity and nobility."

"Spare me your sermon old fool! I've heard it before and I have no wish to hear it again. Why are you here?"

Luke answered cautiously, "We're attempting to make our way towards a village where kinsmen live-"

The man cut him off, "Bugger that you fools. You're mine!"

The man lept forward swinging his sword in a glittering arc. With a yelp Torasu lept backward, but not in time to save his beard.

The man shouted, "Kill them all."

Hans started scrambling for a better position when an arm wrenched him downward. It took the panicked archer a moment to release that Luke was bellowing orders in his face. "Forward! We've got to go forward. If we don't go now they'll circle out and kill us all."

Dimly grasping the fact Hans realized that he was running backwards and releasing arrows at the band, the same way that Alef was flinging balls of fire at them. Luke was in the front threatening any who should come to close and Torasu was hobbling forward as quickly as he could.

The man leaned down and picked up a rock. He flung it with startling accuracy, and it struck Torasu hard.

The healer hit the ground and started to stumble up to his feet, but the man ran forward and plunged his sword at Torasu, the healer managed to twist about and block the blow, although the strength of the exchange forced him to his knees. The man raised his sword for a killing strike.

"NO!" screamed Luke. He lept forward his own sword unsheathed battle in his eyes when a distinct thud shook the ground. He saw the man's followers falling, with arrows in them.

The man's face twisted with hatred and he snarled, "We'll meet again. Retreat!"

And as suddenly as they had appeared, the ragtag group was gone. Alef knelt down by Torasu and wept with relief, they had both originally come from the Kingdom of Prompt and the old man had been her mentor, and like a father to her.

Striding up the path though was a familiar sight and it gave Hans strength. He called out, "General Torl! It's good to see you. What's the report?"

The general laughed good-naturedly and said, "Come along. You're almost out of the mountains and Alterone is close by. We'll have an in-depth discussion once we're safely away from this place."

Panting a little as he struggled to keep up Luke prodded, "Who was that back there?"

"He's a sort of bandit who's taken to roaming the area. His name's Alfred. I don't know anything else about him, nor would I want to."

There was little else said for the rest of the walk, only a few pleasantries were exchanged. As soon as they got into camp the general said, "Sorry we weren't fast enough to spare you that old man, but these things happen eh?" He laughed quite heartily at it.

Hans asked, "What's the situation in Alterone? We've only heard the bare details."

The smile vanished from the general's face almost immediately. He murmured soberly, "It's bad, very bad. What exactly have you heard?"

"That Magus took over. That's about it. How did he manage it though?"

There was a far-off look in Torl's eyes as he related, "I've never seen anything like it. Never… anyone who resisted was slaughtered. They did unspeak… unspeakable things to all… and he… he _betrayed_ us. Betrayed us!"

Hans asked cautiously, "Ah… who? Betrayed you that is?"

Torl's dark-rimmed eyes burned with a fury darker than any Hans had ever seen. The fury of a fanatic disillusioned. He said in a low voice, "The king. MY king! That bastard sold us out to Magus! Invited him to the city. He sold us all out. My boys… my army… my life. All of that killed because he wasn't strong enough to keep fighting! And so much more was lost that day. Not just from me either. The heartless bastard took it all… he took it all."

Hans asked, "Was it that bad?"

As though he wasn't even listening Torl rambled on, "I remember. When I was younger… I, I worshipped him. I dogged his steps, mimicked his every action, was his first sworn man, the first sword in his fist… and I suppose that I loved him. And he threw it all away, and for what?" Shaking his head he suddenly seemed ten years older as he added in a weary voice, "It was all so pointless."

He shook his head, and then his gaze focused on the others. "Well," he managed shakily, "There you have it. What plans do you have? And where are the others?"

Luke frowned. "I don't think we know enough of the situation to make any plans yet General, but—"

Torl cut him off, "Then you want to know my plans. The situation is simple enough. Magus has located himself in the castle and made the entire city his garrison. This accomplishes three things: First of all it means that trying to take the city will be a battle that is bloody and lets him know that we're coming, secondly he's given orders that the city will be destroyed if our attack is actually succeeding, and last it gives him an escape route should we, against all odds, break his power completely."

Luke frowned again. "I know that there's a secret passage to Rindo, but I don't see how that helps Magus. Last I heard both factions were fighting quite heatedly for control of the region."

"That still holds true, but a bold fellow, I don't recall the name, seized Rindo a few days ago. The battling for the entire region is still being waged as fiercely as before. Oh and this man now holds the undisputed title of Captain, making him the leader of the soldiers. I believe he was formerly a subordinate of Lynx."

Hans said dryly, "Yes that would account for his success wouldn't it? Anyway what are your plans General?"

Torl grinned suddenly. "Well I've been putting together an invasion plan. One of the main difficulties is that we need to be able to have someone inside the castle. We have a man there who was captured, Haiden. If we can keep Magus occupied and release Haiden, he won't be able to bother with a little ruckus outside the castle until the inside resistance is finished. This was the problem that I hadn't been able to overcome. I learned that Magus is having some sort of feast tonight though, and knew that it would probably be our best chance to try anyway."

Hans interrupted, "Why did Magus take only one prisoner?"

Torl's face darkened again, "The filthy swine didn't. He took several more… but started executing them to punish the 'malcontents' in the area. Haiden and a couple others are the only ones left at this point."

Luke sighed. "Your position doesn't sound like a good one. Why haven't you applied to Guardiana for help?"

Torl snorted. "I did. And I was turned down very politely. By Ward. He explained that Guardiana couldn't spare any soldiers at the moment, but I would be informed the moment that she could." Shaking his head he said, "To tell the truth I don't think that many people know that Ward's refusing to take action. The knights that I spoke to are itching for a fight."

Luke sputtered, "That's ridiculous! What is that idiot playing at?"

"Search me. Anyway the point is that we're desperate enough to attack Alterone anyway, but I think I know how to do it. There are three entrances to the town all told. Obviously there's the main entrance of course, but the town can also be entered on its eastern side at a church and a pub. And we'll concentrate at the church. Magus has the main entrance heavily guarded and all of his soldiers hang around the pub as much as possible. The church is the weak spot." He grinned and added, "But now the risk shouldn't be nearly so high as the mighty Shining Force has come to honor its obligation to us. I think I've answered all of your questions by now, so unless you have any more I'd like to ask you one or two."

Luke grinned back, "Fair enough. What do you want to know?"

"Well to start with, now that I've told you everything do you have any suggestions of your own?"

Luke shrugged. "Not really. I'd have to think a little more. But Hans or I could probably get you some support from Guardiana. I know the new Lord Commander: Jarl. Other than that though there's nothing I can think of off the top of my head."

Torl laughed. "That'd be excellent. Well then where are the others?"

"Others? I'm afraid that I'm not sure what you're driving at General…"

"The others. I mean how far behind are the rest of you? When are you getting here?"

"General there aren't any others. We're the only ones that were sent."

Torl exploded to his feet, his face dead white. "What?! You… you mean… What's Max playing at then? What does he mean be this? To insult me? HOW DOES HE THINK THAT FOUR PEOPLE CAN DO ANYTHING TO RECLAIM MY NATION?"

"Please calm down General. We can do a great deal I think and-"

"Bugger that! And fuck your condolences! Tell me Sir Luke, does the Shining Force take its oaths so lightly as all that?" He was trembling with rage and Luke flinched slightly at the bitterness and venom in the man's voice.

Hans said forcefully, "We do not take our oaths lightly! Max is surrounded on all sides by enemies and even as the news of Alterone's plight reached us was challenged by several different enemies. We want Alterone to be free just as much as you do General, if not for our own interests then for Alterone's own sake. You seem to forget that some of us grew up in this area too and also love the city."

"Oh and you can only spare four soldiers? That will not help at all! It would take much more power than that. You've betrayed me!"

"And if we did spare more, what then General? Would Alterone matter over the territory Mishalea would take back? The brutal massacres that would resume in areas we're trying to keep safe? The vengeful fury of Lynx? As it is we're trying to prevent that and save your nation. And anyway, Lord Max need not have sent you any. You might be showing a little, bloody gratitude."

"Gratitude?" His voice was very quiet now, but still shaking with anger. "It seems to me that it should be all of you showing some gratitude. We saved you from dying at the hands of Alfred and now you can lecture me? I trusted you… the people believed in you, but Max has thrown it all away. And no matter what you think you're not the only ones who love this land, who've sacrificed everything for it. For the sake of the alliance we once had I'll allow you to leave. Now get out of my sight!

Without another word, without giving them a chance to argue back, he stalked off, his back rigid with indignation.

Luke sprang to his feet, "This is nuts, they haven't got a chance."

Hans said dryly, "I don't see you offering any notions."

"Oh shut up would you? Here's what we'll do. I'll go to Guardiana as fast as possible and round up the knights. They'll listen to me even if Ward won't. You three go to Alterone. Don't let Torl know that you're there, find some way to try and stall Magus. Now go!"

Hans opened his mouth, "This is ridicu—" but then swallowed his words as he saw Torasu and Alef nodding. _I can't override all three of them._

Just as Luke turned around Hans warned him, "If this crazy scheme gets me killed, I shall be very put out with you."

As he jogged off, the dwarf called over his shoulder, "And if you don't get this to work, I shall be very put out with you."

Walking quickly Hans started to formulate a plan, "We'll need to get into the castle… I think I know how we can do that. But we'll need inside support. Alef, I'll need your help, but Torasu can try to get to this fellow, this Haiden."

---

Max and his group had stopped to rest in a small abandoned village a few hours south of the shrine where Zalbard had died. They had argued fiercely before making the stop.

_Stumbling back up to his feet, he gazed around the shrine and at Zalbard's lifeless body oozing blood. Mae's eyes were cold with anger, "We've been… it was a trap the whole time. Odd-Eye tricked us!" _

_Gort snarled, "Don't yae be talkn' laeke that lassie. Ah'm the oonly oone of us who actually traed tae spaeke tae him. Ah'm the only one who knows him. He might be this Odd-Eye that serves Zeon, but he's also Oddler. The whole thing wasn't just a fake!" _

Max sighed. It hadn't been difficult to figure out. For whatever reason, Odd-Eye and Zalbard had been quarreling and because of that… well Odd-Eye had gained everything. He'd gained the confidence of the Shining Force he'd studied them, fought with them and knew them much, much better than any other servant of Mishalea's. And Zalbard was safely dead. _And_ the only ones to exhaust their energy had been the group that had gone out to kill Zalbard. _The only one's to lose were us. _

It was, Max reflected, absolutely infuriating how easily they had been taken in. Still what was done was done, and there was nothing to be gained from self-recrimation. He did believe that Gort was right though, despite everything Odd-Eye _had_ saved Gort from Zalbard.

Despite everything the friendship he had made had been enough to override his loyalty to Zeon and save an old dwarf.

They were sitting now in a pub. Trying to make conversation Diane asked, "Why was this village abandoned?"

Max shrugged. "Who knows? Disease, famine, Mishalea, bandits… there are innumerable possibilities. Perhaps it was a combination of some of those even. Villages are being abandoned all over the place."

Diane nodded and said, "I suppose so. Maybe they were just too close to Skull Castle and decided to move out of sheer prudence. Pass some of that almond wine would you?"

Upon arriving Gort and Musashi, between themselves, had immediately sniffed out the wines and ales, and had found, amongst other things, a _very _good vintage of almond wine.

There were all drinking in a rather determined fashion, and had pressed a bottle upon just about everyone. Max suddenly realized that Ian, with whom he was sharing, had drunk very little, and that mean that Max had drunk invariably too much.

He sighed and realized that his head was pounding. That was bad. It meant he could still feel something. _More wine._ _No,_ he thought as forcefully as he could. He'd had plenty. He needed to stay alert.

Rising to his feet suddenly, he said, "I'm going out to take some air."

Tao rose quickly and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

Max shrugged. "Feel free." Mae had insisted on taking some guard duty, and Hanzou and Slade were both sleeping off the effects of battle.

Ian started to rise when Max said, "You don't have to follow me everywhere. I'll be safe enough here."

"But—"

"Ian, relax yourself a little bit. Nothing will happen. And if it does, Tao will be with me."

---

After hesitating a moment the swordmaster sat back down with a sigh. Max and Tao went out. He closed his eyes a little and lay back thinking idly that the others were all drinking rather a lot.

He frowned and sat up. Leaning close to the bar he realized that there were small, dark drops of… blood. He started to jump out and unsheathe his sword in a simultaneous action when something hot and painful tore into his shoulder. He fell face down. _Dammit! _

Just before passing out he heard a sneering voice, "Kill them! Kill them now!"

---

Max was in a similar plight. He shook Tao, who had collapsed for no apparent reason, and was saying, "Tao! Tao, wake up damn you!" And that was when he saw what looked like a twig? No, it was a dart on the front of her shoulder.

He instinctively reached for the Chaos Breaker and came up in a battle stance. It was a good thing that he did, for walking towards him was a man with a sword attached to a piece of rope. The man was backed by twenty-five others and was swinging the rope-sword about expertly. For a moment Max's mind went blank, but then he remembered where he had seen the man before; it was that hulking toady of Chu Rao's, Lumba.

---

Hollow-eyed and miserable the former king of Alterone watched Magus tearing into his food with an atrocious appetite. The king himself had always been a stout man, a man who enjoyed his food, but Magus's taste was absolutely obscene! He tore into fresh baked bread and wolfed at the cheese slopping a good bit of wine about and shredded the meat with his teeth.

On the other hand though, his face was getting steadily redder and redder which meant that the ploy was working: Magus was getting drunk. When he wasn't drunk he was capable of a basic sort of cunning that allowed him to order his troops about, but drunk he would be a hopeless incompetent.

Head drooping with shame, the king reflected on his sins. He had been a terrible monarch, though he knew that his people didn't think so. He had been lazy, spent money on pleasures, wasting it away, not strong enough to lead his people in peace or in war. Soft and greedy he had soon reached the breaking point, the point of no return.

He wondered how other's managed to go on so long, but he admired their strength. A wave of sorrow bit away at his heart, grief his only answer, longing his only comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed away his sorrow. For now, bitterness would be better than the sorrow, hatred easier than pain.

There was only one way he could make up for his transgressions, only one way he could try and buy his people's freedom back. Under the table he toyed with the dagger he had stolen and awaited his best moment.

Magus cried out, "Come now, let's bring the prisoner and the women in and have our fun!"

A guardsman approached the door and through it open. He then stumbled backwards.

"What's wrong? Didn't you hear what I said stupid? Fetch the prisoner! And some women. I said do it! Do it! Do it now!"

The guard clutched at his throat and fell down, dead. Magus lept to his feet, when an arrow thudded into the table, neatly pinning a roast chicken, and a voice cracked out, "Magus, denizen of Mishalea, perpetrator of massacre and of murder, you are on trial for your life, for the crimes you have committed against Rune!"

Magus's eyes bulged he sputtered, "Kill... kill… I… you…"

The king stared in astonishment, his mind completely blank. There in the doorway stood Hans.


	21. Chapter 21: To Arms!

Chapter 21:

To Arms

Mishalea lay naked on her bed beside High Commander Lynx. She'd taken to bedding Lynx somewhat recently as a precautionary attempt to balance the growing rift between him and Eiku. She couldn't afford to take sides, not without alienating one or the other and that she would not do. _Not yet anyway. _

There were so many things to be prepared for, so many complications. And she wished that Lynx and Eiku would set aside their private quarrel, in face of the larger tapestry. Neither would budge though. She had to be careful, to give in to Lynx sometimes and Eiku others, making sure that she didn't make it seem as though she were supporting one or the other.

And then she had admitted Lynx to her bed. Although it may have been a mistake, for Eiku was increasingly troublesome, it would at least give her one thing: Complete control of Lynx. In all the years that he'd served her, he'd only refused to do her bidding twice although he had argued with her about many decisions. Upon sleeping with her, he had practically ceased arguing and never refused her now.

It was ironic, she thought, that Lynx could be moved by such a tender emotion as love. And she was certain that that was what it was, she didn't just see lust in Lynx's eyes when he looked upon her she didn't just see desire. When he touched her, he tried as well as he could to make it pleasing to her as well.

No, she supposed he wasn't bad company… although not a particularly skilled lover, he was pleasant enough and she supposed that if she gave it much thought she would enjoy it.

She was getting sidetracked though.

_Focus on the task at hand. _ The Shining Force. Was there any immediate solution to the Shining Force, that upstart band of peasants who dared to challenge the supremacy of Lord Darksol? If there was one, then it was dammed elusive.

She was willing to give it time. Although it had mostly been her forces that had suffered humiliation and defeat, it was Warderer's lackey, Gordon, who was dead, not one of hers. And Zalbard, also dead. She had immediately noticed the absence of his power, as she suspected that most of them had. And now her own army was going to stop suffering quite so badly. The war in Rune might be left solely up to her forces at the moment and might be far from won, but the immediate battle with the Shining Force would be a collaborative effort, mostly split between Warderer and Zeon.

And so, she felt that she had little to fear on that front for the moment. And she also hoped that this new plan would be enough to curb some of the plotting going on in Skull Castle.

While Max dared to threaten the very existence of the Darkness, it was essential that all servants of the darkness call a temporary truce until the Shining Force was properly killed. It was also highly regrettable that Zeon and Warderer were not taking to the idea.

Of course she detested them, probably more so than either one detested her, but the alliance was necessary. Zeon, she felt fairly certain, would bluster, shout, and threaten, but in the end he would not dispute the alliance, because he understood its importance.

And as for Warderer… ah yes, despite the fact that he was probably the single largest nuisance of Mishalea's life, the man could see the larger tapestry and often adjusted his own plans accordingly. The question was would he adjust his plans this time round?

She alone knew what motivated Warderer. Oh the others certainly could sense the hatred, the bitterness emanating from him the way that heat emanated from fire. But she alone knew why it did so. Warderer cared only for vengeance and would pursue it through insane acts the instant he sniffed the opportunity.

_He should thank me. Hating me gave him the will to develop his talent. _

Nonetheless, she was quite certain that the most self-control she had ever exercised in her entire life had been to resist killing that embittered agitator that day in the shrine. Indeed, it showed just how thoroughly she controlled herself now. The prospect of finally killing him had become even harder to resist as she realized that he was sick. At first she had thought little of his surprisingly changed appearance, it had been years since they'd met face to face, after all and changes were inevitable. But he was so much thinner, his face emaciated. Warderer dying? Perhaps his powers had already weakened? Oh, to take revenge, to wrap her power around Warderer and ambush him in his own stronghold, yes those were immensely pleasing thoughts. But, as her rage cooled, the more practical solution offered itself. Why expend energy she could not afford to waste when the problem of Warderer might simply solve itself? He was, she suspected, dying and it would be eminently more useful if the disease killed him rather than going through with the cumbersome business of killing him herself. And, after all these years it would be a sweet victory to win with no effort.

Abruptly Mishalea's mood of elation shifted. Warderer had such a talent. And it would have to die. What a waste.

That, Mishalea wearily acknowledged, was what came of not killing your friends before they became your enemies. At any rate, what was done was done and there was nothing to be gained from reviewing past regrets. She had created Warderer and now she would deal with the consequences.

For the moment she saw no prospects in the ancient hatred that bound her to rival factions of the darkness. And so she concentrated on the Shining Force.

Though her current reports of the group's movements were somewhat limited, they were nonetheless very interesting.

It appeared that there was some sort of army in the area that had already attacked the Shining Force once. Despite Max's undeniable charisma, Mishalea remained certain that the man made many enemies. She had tried to learn all that she could of this new army, but her own informants had failed her.

Kisaragi was reticent on the subject, but Mishalea was certain that the other woman was perfectly cognizant of the facts of this case. All the same she had expected that Kisaragi would only tell her what she wanted her to know, so she was content to let the matter be delicately dropped and concentrate on what Kisaragi could offer her: The Cypress Resistance.

According to all information the resistance was led by some strange creature called Gyan, reportedly a close connection to the royal family. There was probably nothing there, but Mishalea had ordered that followed up on. If she could seize on some weakness of this Gyan, then the Cypress Resistance might well collapse. She didn't want to help Warderer, but she was more worried about those malcontents than she was about him.

And even Gepple knew little of this new enemy of Max's.

_Gepple… _

She had not thought of the spy for days, but now she considered him. Had he known of Frabell's traitorous activities? Merely suspected? Or had no knowledge at all? Mishalea was cynically inclined to believe that he had known the whole time.

All the same, she wouldn't kill him for not telling her. Besides the possibility that she was wrong, he was the only reliable conduit she had to Death Woldol, and as long as the twisted former servant of Iom continued to be a player, she wanted to be informed about him. And though her own spies were thorough, Gepple could always find out much more than they could.

No, she wouldn't kill him for withholding information from her she would merely keep it in mind for the day when she finally did kill him as she was bound to do. Though there were very few ways to actually kill an undead enemy, Mishalea knew them all and was confident that Gepple would eventually fall. The easiest way to kill him would be through fire of course. An undead was after all, just the shade of a person in a dead body.

The shade fed off of the body and couldn't exist on its own without feeding once every few hours. And though the shade could abandon its host to risk trying to hunt out a new body and therefore avoid much danger, fire could destroy the shade. As could a special sort of ointment.

As she considered all this, her mind drifted back to her new alliance her strange new bedfellows. She was hardly concerned about Warderer himself, although she did privately suspect him of being the most talented sorcerer she had ever known, and she felt even less concerned with the minions he had surrounded himself with. Except mayhaps Hindel. Indeed, she knew too little about that man in the mask with the quiet voice.

It stirred a vague unease in her. And the man was out of place. Things that were out of place concerned her, especially where Warderer was concerned.

And the undead? She was rather scornful of them too. Woldol might, she conceded, be a problem, but he was hardly strong enough to prove a true enemy. Although… She shifted uneasily. What did Woldol want? He had been a powerful servant of Iom and had backed King Edmond the Reluctant when he tried to take the Cypress Throne from his brother. In life, Woldol had been a sadist and a plotter. He schemed and maneuvered, always for more power, and now that he was dead he seemed to do nothing but serve. It made her uncomfortable. Why should he subordinate himself in such a manner?

_What do you want Woldol?_

That left Zeon. He was powerful and she knew that a direct confrontation with him might be the end of her own life, but Zeon would be seriously wounded in such a struggle, so he hadn't tried it. Geshp could be a difficulty, but she was highly skeptical that he would choose to be. After watching him for a while, she was certain that he considered all possibilities as much as he could, and then chose the course of action that would benefit him the most.

Risking his life to kill her was not worth the trouble it would make at the moment and so she wasn't worried about him. Odd-Eye though… yes, he would be problematic. Very much so. Odd-Eye would always stand by his master Zeon, until he died anyway. And killing Zeon would be very difficult. Nobody knew that better than Mishalea.

His power was keyed to the Jewel of Evil. It was, in theory, possible to kill Zeon by destroying the jewel because he would then lose his power. It would be a risky ploy though and Mishalea had no intention of trying it unless she absolutely had to. That didn't stop her from trying to find the jewel though.

And Lord Darksol's revival was also a pressing concern. Long ago he had battled Zeon and been sealed away by the Devil King. Although he had triumphed at the same time by sealing Zeon's power in the Jewel of Evil and then cast it away. Zeon to this day had not found it. So his minions had protected him while he was in such a vulnerable position and she had saved Lord Darksol. The statue that dominated her shrine was Darksol. In order to break the sealing there were two sacrifices that would have to be made.

Darksol was a statue with gold plating. One sacrifice would destroy the plating… and the second would bring him back to this dimension. And it was imperative that she discover these sacrifices and resurrect him as quickly as possible.

And all had been going well.

_Until that insolent peasant interfered. Damn Max! _

He was rather hard to kill and she had been suffering the results of that far too much. And so she had had her spies invest considerable time in finding a potential traitor. Now reports indicated that there might be an opportunity in that direction, but it was hard to say. It might come to nothing. She wanted it followed up on very carefully though.

And there was also a rift between Max and Prince Nick. She doubted that it would prove to be very useful, but all the same she viewed the situation with mercenary optimism. She shifted restlessly as her thoughts turned to Ian. That would be a problem.

It was, she reflected sourly, regrettable that she hadn't been sure to kill him the moment she learned that he'd been born. Then again, at the time she'd had no idea how troublesome Kane's pestilential brat was going to be.

She still believed that her plan would have worked if not for Galm's interference. The deaths of the king, Max, Varios, Ward, Mae, and all the others would have been blamed on the treachery of the Cyprian ambassadors. Runefaust, Guardiana and Cypress would've proceeded to tear each other apart and everything would be perfect.

As it was, Galm had taken a hand and the Shining Force had been making her life a misery ever since.

_Why did you interfere, Galm? Why do you stand in Lord Darksol's way? _

She simply couldn't understand why he had personally started this war against her. Why he had allowed the Shining Force to exist. And that had brought her into her alliance with Rilix.

If a Vandal as powerful as Galm was going to get in her way, then she would need to find allies amongst the Vandal clan. And Rilix was perfect for her needs. The crone was bitter, twisted and hated Galm for reasons that she kept to herself. She was powerful and willing enough however, so whatever her past grievances were she would still be useful.

Mishalea sighed and shifted thinking about the most important of matters. She needed an heir. Disciples of the Darkness weren't necessarily invincible to time and Mishalea well knew that she could end up dead one day serving Lord Darksol.

There had been prospects over the years, but they had all come to nothing. Her own son Mephisto lacked the most important of qualities, and he had resented her and abandoned his birthright. Lynx and Eiku were bereft of the gift and Magus showed only a slight talent and Paezorta was too dangerous.

And Warderer, that frustratingly whimsical and unambitious young man, he had turned on her in wrath.

_Focus on the task at hand. _

She could at least do something about the Shining Force and she would therefore do so. Boldly, she stuck a hand in-between Lynx's legs whispering, "Lynx, Lynx my love."

He rose sleepily and murmured, "What is it my love?"

"I need a favor of you." She stared at him, putting all of her force in the green eyes that met his dark ones in a limpid gaze.

He nodded gently. "Of course. What is it?"

It was gratifying, she reflected, that he listened to her and looked at her rather than at her body. She replied, "I want you to give me Rune."

He sat up now and frowned. "How?"

"The key to Rune is Pao. I want you to take charge of it and send your army to conquer the plains. And I want you to be there in person."

In truth the key to Rune was Bustoke. The mountain town was impossible to take from the cliffs as the civilians could hold off her soldiers indefinitely. If Pao fell though, more soldiers could sweep through Bustoke from its northern woods and take the city. More soldiers could finally take over the whole of the Manarina Region. And then they could finally crush Guardiana.

Lynx understood all of this and would see the importance of her order.

He protested, "But I cannot just drop all of my duties here, it's important that I continue to—"

"Shhh," she whispered. "You won't have to be there the entire time. You will have to make regular trips though. I trust none of my generals to win a campaign the way that I trust _you, _Lynx."

Lynx hesitated, "But while I'm gone who will see to my duties pertaining the Shining Force?"

"Eiku will continue as he is doing. Bangar and Gwaid are both loyal to me as well. You won't have to worry about being gone for a while."

"Eiku." The contempt in his voice was pronounced. "He is not trustworthy to keep on M—"

"I'll also have Paezorta around to keep an eye on him as well as perform your duties while you're away."

He nodded now and said, "In that case, consider Pao yours."

Though Paezorta and Lynx had never been friends, she knew that they shared mutual respect for one another and had hoped that that same respect would be enough to quiet Lynx's protests.

She got up and then said, "Go back to sleep for now. I need to go and talk to Nosshu."

---

Lumba smiled, pleased. He hadn't expected the Shining Force, even just eleven of them, to be easy to kill, but this was luck, better than he had ever expected. To stumble upon Max himself, completely isolated.

He suspected that if Max was killed, the rest of the Shining Force would crumble. Oh, they'd probably still fight, but they couldn't actually replace him. And now it looked as though all of Lumba's work would pay off. It had been he, after all, who had suggested this trap to Chu Rao.

And it would be he who slaughtered Max and his companions. Killing the others wouldn't be easy though, and so he had requested additional soldiers for the assignment. And if he killed Max himself… well he would take the claim to Dava. Lumba had always had aspirations towards captaincy and he was certain that the death of Max could result in the realization of that dream.

Chu Rao might be a problem though. Despite being stronger than the others, his position as one of Dava's favored wasn't really all that secure. If he got in the way though, well Lumba could take care of that too.

---

Deanna had not said a word to him since they had left. And it was making Nick seethe with frustration. He didn't even like the man, but all the same it struck him as distinctly odd that he wouldn't speak.

So, he idly studied the patterns of light and shadow created by walking through a forest. He also asked questions about a duty, he was ashamed to say, he had neglected to get around to until now.

Mayfair and Yeesha told him what little they knew about the Cypress Resistance forces. Apparently Gyan was leading them, and for that Nick was glad. Gyan was an old friend of his as well as a loyal retainer to the Cypress Royal family. He had lost one of his eyes in service of the crown, but Nick was confident that Warderer would not hold Cypress long. If anybody could free it from his filthy hands it would be Gyan.

Gyan was also supported by some other old acquaintances of Nick's. Kashing, Gates, Shriek, and Randolf to name just a few. And he trusted all of them just as much as he trusted Gyan.

So he turned his thoughts back to his admittedly audacious scheme. Yes there was a risk to it, but the victory would be huge. Certainly huge enough to override any potential risk that the plan carried.

He tried to be patient with the others. He tried to remember that the Shining Force had not been fighting the dark god Iom for very long, that they had not seen what he could do. That they were used to fighting and hating Mishalea. He tried, but all the same he couldn't help thinking that Max was sometimes, remarkably stupid.

He didn't really blame the rest of the Force for agreeing with their leader though. That was what they were supposed to do, and they certainly believed that Max was right. As always, there needed to be someone at the top to rule or anarchy and chaos would spread. And therefore, the Force was doing the right thing, backing their leader up. It was just dammed inconvenient.

He had expected better of Princess… well, alright, Queen, Anri. She was after all, a member of royalty, educated, worldly, and rumored to be quite clever. He hadn't seen it though. She struck him as willful and foolish, especially the way that she didn't understand that striking Solo now was a necessity.

.

He supposed that the only reason she was believed to be so intelligent was because she ruled the wits of every man that she came across with her body.

_The emasculating whore. _

He decided to try and find out more about Deanna.

"So where do you come from?"

No response. He prodded, "Your parents?"

This time he noted that the upper corners of Deanna's mouth tightened for just a moment. A cold anger filled the young prince as he realized that the peasant was laughing at him.

He opened his mouth, when a hollow booming voice sounded out of nowhere.

"Shining Force. There is a whole platoon of Iom soldiers led by the General Barbara a mile to the north. You would be wise to strike out immediately."

Nick paused then murmured, "Ignore it. This is probably a cheap form of trickery in an attempt to lead us to an amb-"

The voice cut him off, "What you choose to believe or disbelieve is your own business, but whether or not you take it, this is my gift to you Shining Force."

Nick's jaw worked and then he said, "We can't ris-"

Deanna snapped at him, "This is a fine time for _you _to start worrying about caution! You should take it."

Nick peered quizzically at the young man and realized, with a bit of surprise to be honest, that he looked almost sick. "Why do you say that?"

"I… damn you, take it! It's telling the truth. I… I… take it!"

Natasha hesitated and said in a confused voice, "Deanna…"

Nick, upon seeing Deanna so agitated, felt less respectful and asked, "What makes you think that it's true?"

Upon receiving no response he prodded, "Does this have anything to do with your past? Were you a spy?"

_WHAM! _

Nick stumbled backwards blood gushing freely from his broken nose. "You hit me!" He was still more stunned, not from pain, but from the fact that Deanna _had_ struck him.

"You hit me," he murmured sinking down into a sitting position.

In the meantime Deanna was snapping out orders. "We're going to go and investigate this claim with the view of attacking the platoon that we've been informed about."

Ruce shouted at him, "I'm not following you anywhere! You hit my prince!"

Natasha didn't pause at all, but jumped up beside Deanna, eyes blazing, and said, "I'm with Deanna at any rate."

Dawn quietly stood beside Natasha. Then after a pause, Claude flew over followed by Luke and Eric. Graham joined them. Yeesha, Wendy, Sig and Cray came next. Mayfair started walking over when Ruce put his hand on her arm and insisted, "You can't be condoning this!"

Mayfair looked down and then finally said, "Nick deserved it. He's been acting like a bloody bastard recently. And this venture was just plain suicidal."

Ruce started to protest when Nick cut him off, "Let her go. We'll… join him." The gods, how those words hurt! But it hurt even more to hear that Mayfair thought… thought that he was an arrogant bastard. He stared for a moment at Deanna and a cold, clear hatred flooded his veins. He silently swore to himself that the day he knew that Iom was no longer a threat he would kill the fucking bastard himself.

---

Domingo sighed. He was bored, lonesome, tired, and hungry. Ever hungry for Anri's love and knowing that he couldn't have it. He'd been a fool to ever hope that she'd love him… a fool to long for it even now, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

He sighed again.

"Is there anything wrong?"

He looked up quickly and swore under his breath.

_Lowe. _

He didn't feel like talking to anyone. Still he had to put on a pretense that he was alright, or he knew that the healer wouldn't leave him alone.

"Oh, I'm fine." He hovered in the air and started singing, "I'm the tap-dancing jellyfish! I'm the tap-dancing jellyfish! I'm the tap-dancing jellyfish! Hey!"

Lowe snorted, "You know, that would be more convincing if you didn't spend all of your time in this tent sighing and looking as though the sky had just fallen on your head."

"There's no need to be insulting."

Lowe almost laughed, but instead he just said, "Anyway you're going to go out and float around and talk to some people. And that's not a friendly suggestion. That's your doctor's orders."

Domingo glared at him. "Fine then. If you insist. _Doctor_," he added in a tone of biting sarcasm.

And so he did leave the tent to float around a bit. Only to run straight into Anri.

She smiled at him and said, "Oh. Hello. How are you doing?"

His mouth went dry at the sight of her beauty. "Oh, um… hello. That is, uh, I'm fine."

She said, "You've been cooped up in that tent for quite awhile you know. I hadn't realized that your wound was so serious."

He managed, "Well it wasn't really. I was just uh…" and his voice trailed off.

Anri asked, "I don't suppose you know what's been going on?"

Actually he did know, Lowe had been kind enough to keep him informed, but this was an excuse to stay and talk to her some. So he said, "No. I haven't heard much of anything. Except that Max went off to kill some devil or other."

"Well quite a bit has happened." She talked, and because Domingo mostly knew it all, he focused more so on her than her words. The rich vibrancy of this woman as she explained what had happened.

He suddenly realized that she was asking him something and he blinked. "Um… sorry, but what was that?"

"Well… you didn't seem to be listening so I—"

He quickly changed the subject. "So… what's happened to Guntz?"

"He took charge of sentry duty."

"Oh. Well that should be good. I mean he's a good fighter. And he'll do a fine job."

Anri raised a brow. She asked, "Are you _sure_ you're all right?"

"Of cour—"

There came shouts and screams out of no where. Anri spun about, and Guntz was running up to them battered and bleeding.

Before either one of them could phrase a question he burst out, "We're under attack! Everyone needs to be roused." He added, "It's Chu Rao again."

---

Diane almost screamed reflexively when Ian fell forward an arrow in the back of his shoulder, and she spun about to see… eight enemies menacing the small and, if the truth be told, somewhat drunken group in the bar.

Fumbling for her bow, she took aim at a big, strong-looking knight and released the shot. It slammed into his chest, slightly to the side of anything serious, but he looked surprised and it certainly slowed him down.

Her gaze swept over the other enemies quickly. Two tall men holding swords were there and three with axes. There was a mage lingering close to the back of the room with a rather shifty looking fellow sporting two knives who was hanging close to him.

Gort lurched to his feet giving vent to a bellow of rage. Musashi was slightly, but only slightly, steadier on his own legs. Ridion seemed fairly alert however, and Diane supposed that that much was a small blessing.

That was when an arrow zipped down from above only just missing Gort as he ran forward.

Another archer.

_Damn. _

Diane took a deep breath. What she was thinking was insane, just plain stupid. And yet… it had to be done.

She jumped forward and ran at the group. She supposed it was only their surprise at seeing an archer run straight at them that allowed her even the few moments that she had.

And then one man, wielding a sword, ducked down and took a swipe at her. She sucked in her stomach, just missing the slice, and swung her wooden bow at his head. It connected solidly and he dropped down, stunned.

Musashi was suddenly beside her, his katana dripping with blood. She glanced in confusion at the ground and saw the knight she had wounded, dead.

The samurai bellowed, "Get going! I'll try to hold them off."

She nodded and kept running.

The mage howled, "Stop her! You, head her off. The rest of us can take on these three."

She saw the knife-wielder nod, and crouched down flexing her muscles. She took a flying leap and landed awkwardly on the third stair up to the landing. Unfortunately her balance was a little wobbly and she stumbled back.

A hand grabbed hold of her boot pulling her further off-balance. Unfortunately for the man her foot reflexively kicked back, slamming hard into his face.

The man hissed with pain, but didn't let go of her foot and executed a cat-like jump onto the stair, immediately thrusting his blade at her breasts.

She moved, but was too slow, the knife slashing into her shoulder. With a faint cry bursting from her lips, she lowered her head and slammed it into his throat. Even as his head snapped back he took a wild swing at her. Without being conscious of her movements she jerked her bow in-between his legs and used it as a lever.

He fell onto the floor, his legs still on the stairs. She wasn't sure if he was dead or merely unconscious, but she knew he was no longer a threat and so she started back upstairs taking a brief glance behind her.

Gort lay on the ground, an arrow in his chest although one of the sword-bearers lay dead beside him. Ridion and Musashi were both hard-pressed and clearly wouldn't hold out long. They'd hold out a lot less long if she didn't stop that archer from firing at his leisure though.

Ridion fought like a demon, his axe dripping with blood and brains as one of the axe-bearers fell lifeless beside him. He grinned slightly and stared to bring his axe around to kill another when ice started growing up him.

He gasped in a panic as the ice enfolded him, molding around his body to destroy him or at the very least freeze him in place.

Musashi didn't hesitate at all. Seeing the same opening that Ridion had, his sword lashed out killing a second axe-bearer. His face didn't betray any pain as a sword lashed out across his chest, but Diane knew he couldn't take this for long. Even a warrior like Musashi… surely he couldn't take such punishment.

The upper landing was shadowy. Diane squinted, trying to make out the form of the archer who had taken out Gort. She took a cautious step forward and then felt a bowstring pressed against her throat.

The archer grabbed her neck and started shaking her. In a panic she bolted all of her weight into him. He fell back against the upper rail, but his hands never left her.

He grunted, "Damn… bitch! I'm gonna… gonna break your neck!

Life was occurring in slow motion. Even as she struggled to break his deadly grasp she could see the rest of the battle as though from some great distance.

Back on ground-level Musashi was breathing hard. He'd taken several minor wounds and a few bigger ones upon making some mistakes in combat. He'd also another long scratch across his chest from the sword-man when he'd taken an opportunity to kill the last of the axe-bearers.

The mage's eyes glowed with triumph as he asserted, "You're drunk."

"Might be," said Musashi, "but you're dead!" Moving so fast that his actions were a blur he slit the mage's throat with a cool reserve. The last man, the sword-bearer, suddenly looked wary and glanced cautiously to the upper landing hoping to have some back up.

Seeing Diane in a struggle for her life most like did little to increase his confidence. He made a low crouch and prepared to cross swords with his deadly foe. He ignored the ice cracking around Ridion. The dwarf made no move as he fell to the ground; which suggested unconsciousness if not death.

Diane brought her knee up, seeking to land a blow on the archer's groin. The archer shifted to protect his weakness striving to break her neck as he had threatened. In a sudden stroke of genius Diane bit the man's hand.

With a scream of pain both hands retracted from her throat. Seizing her bow she started raining blows upon him, gasping for breath. The man's hand dived into his tunic and out came a knife. Diane bulled straight into him and they both slammed up against the rail which gave an ominous crack.

The archer whispered, "No." His eyes widened in terror. "NO!" Struggling to make a leap back onto the platform he let the knife fall from his hand. Mistake. Diane thrust her bow out like a sword striking him in the middle of his chest. With a howl he went flying out into space and crashed into the wine shelf. Shards of glass flew everywhere as wines, ales, and beers poured out along the ground flowing all around the now dead man. Diane sank down numbly, trying to recover from his attempt to kill her.

In the meantime Musashi panted, "You're… you're much… better… than I… than I thought."

He was pressed up against the wall, the other man's sword at his throat. His only answer was a chill smile. And then the man collapsed on top of him. Musashi saw a small knife in his back. Standing at the foot of the stairs was Hanzou looking as he always looked: Sleek, shrewd, and dangerous.

"From behind," said Musashi, distaste plain in his voice.

Hanzou wearily replied, "I doubt you would like death much better. And you are very lucky."

"Why didn't you arrive before? Or were you sleeping through all this?"

"There were many more upstairs. I killed them all, but it caused a certain delay in reaching here. Thirteen I believe."

Musashi's tone was skeptical, "You want me to believe that you killed thirteen yourself?"

"I hadn't partaken in any of the alcohol that passed so freely past your own lips. And was therefore in a slightly more alert fashion when attacked," he pointed out. He added, "Enough of this. We should check on these two, and then see how Max fares. I doubt that he has not come under attack."

Musashi started to ask, "What abou—"

Hanzou cut him off, "Slade is dead."

Musashi hesitated, and then decided that for now quarrels could indeed wait. He went over to Gort and knelt, checking for breathing.

He called, "This one is still alive, though in bad shape. I think he can wait for a little while longer."

Hanzou replied, "I was about to say the same for Ridion. They are both lucky too."

The two men then stepped up and ran outside, hoping they would be in time to help Max.

---

Magus never even saw the attack coming. He started to open his mouth, doubtless to shout to his soldiers to kill Hans, when the king jumped up his knife held tightly to Magus's throat.

Red-faced in his rage Magus ordered, "Don't move! If I die here though, kill them all. Kill them al—"

His voice cut off in a squeal of pain as the former king of Alterone drew blood. He hissed, "Not another word Magus or I swear I'll cut your throat here and now."

Hans had stopped briefly, perhaps from surprise, but he continued, "You have murdered, plundered, and pillaged across this continent! You've raped our lands out of avarice and lust. You insult our women, kill our children, and gleefully slaughter those too weak to stand against you. You stand condemned to die for these crimes scum of the earth!"

Magus shrieked insanely, "Lies! All of them! Lies!"

One soldier, bolder than his comrades, jumped to his feet bellowing only to fall away with a shriek of pain as a lightning bolt struck him.

Alef stood beside Hans and warned, "Anyone who interferes in this trial will die."

Not a move was made in the Great Hall. None of the soldiers doubted the power of the wizadress.

Magus shouted, "This isn't a trial this is a—OWCH!"

The king snapped, "Be quiet!"

And that was when one of the windows shattered a stone flying in to strike the king right in his knee. He gave a cry and buckled weakly. Magus turned and sent a clobbering blow to the back of his neck, and then jumped down just dodging Hans' arrow. He croaked, "Kill them you fools! Kill them!"

Chaos erupted in the hall as a voice roared, "FREE ALTERONE!" General Torl was there with his small army charging to slaughter the stumbling soldiers that Magus commanded.

The king weakly managed to look up. He saw Magus's back as he ran towards the window. Magus turned away, almost immediately. There was fire outside the King realized, fire that streaked and illuminated Magus's face. The King drew an amazed breath. Magus was _afraid._ That changed everything. Mishalea's servant ducked low and slunk from the hall.

The king clambered to his feet already knowing that Magus was heading towards the secret passage. He ran after his enemy, and although the king wasn't much of a runner he could still see Magus pretty well.

Magus ran slapbang into a guard who started babbling, "Sire, there's an uprising in the cellars, Sire! The enemy's escaping!"

The king smiled.

_Hear that Magus? Your worst nightmare has come to life!_

Magus croaked, "There are reinforcements coming just behind me. Hold off the prisoner until they get there."

After running a little further Magus yanked on a chain in the ornamental dragon's head. It would open the way to his escape route. He glanced behind himself quickly, and as he did saw a flagon of wine slammed into his face.

As Magus spat and cursed at the wine dripping down his face, the king awkwardly advanced, a sword in his inexperienced hand as he growled, "Fight me you bastard! I won't let you get away!"

Magus ran at his enemy and seized a candlestick holder to use as his weapon. The king lashed out, but Magus easily dodged it and sent a blow straight onto the king. Stumbling back slightly, the king tried to ready himself, but Magus lashed out again. And again and again. Finally the king fell to his knees, his sword dropping from his hand.

Magus eagerly grabbed the weapon and set it to the king's chest, slashing it open.

The world had gone very dark and cold. The king never knew when Magus finally ran away. He just lay there, endeavoring to draw in breath through his ruined chest as each breath he heaved sent a shockwave of pain throughout his body.

"Free Alterone," he mumbled as he lay there dying for a dream.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22:  
Death Comes as the End

Max stumbled slightly backward as his blade caught and parried the next blow. Lumba was good. Very good. _Too good._

Although to be fair he could blame his situation partly on the wine. He no longer remembered why he'd felt it necessary to drink so much of it, but if he was not precisely drunk, he was at least more drunk than sober and it was having quite the effect on his fighting abilities.

Seeing an opening at last he sent a slash at his elusive foe that _would _have opened him from nipple to groin if he hadn't been possessed of impossibly quick reflexes. The sword-rope took a vicious upward slash towards Max's face causing him to stop the attack and bring up his own sword to counter.

Lumba grinned and whipped the sword around so that it laid open his sword hand to the bone.

Max stumbled again. _Too much wine. _The thought was bitter. He had always known that he would likely die in mortal combat, but it was a little degrading to think that it would be at the hands of an insignificant war leader's even more insignificant toady.

Still he supposed that he would otherwise die at the hands of Mishalea or one of her minions, so maybe death by this one was preferable.

The sword-rope swung over his head and slammed painfully into his side. Max clumsily lunged forward, but Lumba side-stepped and Max nearly fell on his face. He felt the sharp edge of the sword bite into his shoulder as he spun around again.

_Too much wine. _

The swishing sword took a sudden dive towards his knees. With a yelp of surprise Max dodged backwards and stumbled awkwardly. Lumba's blade casually opened the skin on his left leg from thigh to knee.

_Too much wine. _

Max realized that Lumba was toying with him he wanted to humble him a little, humiliate the leader of the Shining Force. A rather incongruous laugh escaped from his lips.

Some leader he'd made… With a sudden influx of fury he launched forward taking Lumba by surprise. The startled man started to bring up his sword to parry, but screeched in agony as the Chaos Breaker sliced off two of the fingers on his sword hand.

The mocking smile that had been on Lumba's face disappeared immediately. Lumba was suddenly moving much faster than he had been, his sword nicking Max's hand, shoulder, torso, leg, arm, even his face showing just how easily he could've been killed.

For a brief moment Max considered running. If he did that however then he had no doubt that the others Lumba had brought with him would cut him down. Whereas if he kept fighting there was a chance, a very faint chance, that he could kill Lumba before dying.

Lumba's sword cracked viciously at his torso. Max sucked in his stomach just enough to avoid being cut, but the blade moved upward so fast that Max never had a chance to block it.

He hissed with pain as his cheek was slashed open. He lurched towards Lumba, but the faster man sent his sword flying in at Max's torso yet again. This time the flat of the blade slapped his ribs painfully. Max tottered for a moment, and then Lumba's blade bit into his right thigh.

And then it was over. Max fell to his knees and the Chaos Breaker loosely slid from his hand.

Lumba put his face right up to Max's and whispered, "It hurts doesn't it? It hurts so badly, and yet there's a relief in it, isn't there? Your work isn't done, but it's a relief, because death comes as the end. You know that I'm right." He laughed and said in a voice that everybody could hear, "So much for the Shining Force."

_Thunk. _

One of Lumba's men gave a panicked gurgle and clutched at the arrow protruding from his throat before toppling over in a lifeless heap. Lumba's eyes darted away and he croaked in disbelief, "What? There are more of yo- ARGHH!"

Max, fueled by the sudden hope, had lunged towards Lumba and knocked him off of his feet. Wrestling on the ground, Lumba's rope sword was pretty useless. Max struggled to find his throat panting, "I grant you that death comes as the end for one of us!"

Lumba's wildly flailing hand caught Max a vicious slap across his face, but the leader of the Shining Force retaliated with a solid blow against the back of Lumba's neck. Lumba's hand turned around and clutched at Max's face. The fingers dug into it cruelly.

With a shriek of pain Max reared upwards as though he were a wild horse. Lumba through all of his weight against him and Max went sprawling across the ground.

Lumba lurched to his feet to rejoin the fray and croaked helplessly, "No… oh no, no, no, NO!"

Max was barely conscious of this or the screams all around or even his own pain. The flickering light from the sun, from gleaming steel, from the shimmering water, and from the fire of tormented souls held a queer fascination for him as he started to slip off into oblivion.

That and the one burning phrase etched into his mind.

_Death comes as the end. _

---

Musashi saw the pure chaos. Harsh yells and the sound of arms filled the air, but the sight that held his attention was the sweetest he had seen since Zalbard had died.

"KEN," he bellowed, "To me!" He only saw Ken and two or three others, but it seemed that that would be enough to turn the tide.

And then he caught sight of the huddled figure a few feet away. For a moment his heart stopped and before he was ever conscious of anything he was moving, running. Max had been a pillar he had built his life on, the great warrior who had taught him a new way.

He could not let him die. _Would_ not let him die. He dropped to his knees ignoring the battle and looked about desperately. Max was badly wounded, but if he could staunch the wound then perhaps… He seized the corpse of one of Lumba's men and tore part of his tunic off. Balling it up he pressed it into the wound. Max shifted and groaned slightly.

Knowing there was little else he could do just at the moment the samurai looked up to appraise the situation. He could see Ken and was glad of that. The stolid, if slightly unimaginative centaur was a strong warrior and a worthy ally. He felt a great respect, because Ken also valued his honor above all. He could also see Adam, a robot warrior whose purpose in life was to aid Max.

He saw two others, but did not know them, merely recognized them as some of Ian's men. His eyes widened as he saw Mae exploding out of cover charging down at the leader.

He glanced momentarily back at Max, and though he felt slightly guilty, he knew he had done all he could so picking up his sword he launched into the fray.

---

Lumba looked around as his audacious scheme collapsed before his eyes. He felt a sob of terror and rage rise in his throat. He had to get out! But was it worth it? Chu Rao might well execute him for failure. Although… if Chu Rao also lost his battle against the Shining Force he would need Lumba too badly to kill him.

It wasn't much of a choice he acknowledged, but it was life. That much was worth something. Dangling his sword-rope dangerously from his hand, he launched forward hoping to make the woods.

With a shriek he pulled back as a centaur came galloping at him. He just managed to dodge aside, but this one was fast. Before he could move again the lance thwacked painfully against his ribs.

He sent a desperate flick of his sword-rope at the centaur, but it was easily blocked. He knew that even with the extra range afforded him by using the rope, the centaur still had more.

He took his only chance. With a wild leap into the air he was over the centaur's back already crouched to land so that he could start running. In mid-leap however a form slammed into him and sent him tumbling.

Max.

"You're dead," Lumba blurted, almost indignantly. Before he could move though Max sent a slash that cut through his rope and sent his sword flying- straight into Max's wounded knee.

Lumba gaped for just a moment at his cut rope. That slight hesitation cost him his life. The centaur, not the one who had stopped his flight, but the one who had began this ambush; the centaur flung his spear so that it crashed through his chest.

---

Musashi jogged over to Max shouting, "Ken? How did you arrive here? And with such timing?"

Ken said shortly, "I can tell that another time. Lord Max is badly wounded. We must first heal him. Sonnete!"

The pretty archer came forward and her hand dived to a pouch in her belt. She withdrew some seeds; Musashi recognized them as possessing potent healing abilities.

She gave them to Max and said, "Swallow them without chewing. That should keep you in one piece long enough to get you to a healer."

Max's eyes became more focused and he managed, "Slade… he… he came wi…"

Musashi broke in, "I'm sorry Max, but Slade is dead. I think he's the only one though."

Hanzou had stood there quietly the whole time but now he turned his head, the wind catching at his ropey hair, and he said, "This is true. Ian is wounded, not badly, but has been knocked out with the same sedative that seems to have taken her." He pointed at Tao and then continued, "Gort and Ridion both are badly wounded, but they live. Mae is accounted for here, and Diane should be perfectly fine."

Max bowed his head and said his voice thick with grief, "Slade… I brought him here. He died because of me. Because of me."

At that moment Musashi felt a tremendous kinship with Max. He understood perfectly how hard it was to make choices that condemned people to die for you, and yet having no other choice, because if you didn't all the more would die in the end.

They both wanted the same thing.

_All I want is to stop the suffering. _

He only wished there were some other way than fighting it out to the bloody end with Mishalea.

Adam knelt by Max and asked, his metallic tones ringing, "Master Max. Should I activate my self-destruct sequence? I have failed in my duty. You have been badly wounded. And yet you live. How much have I failed Master Max?"

Max said, "Not at all. You have performed your duty better than I ever hoped. If not for your timely arrival then I would be dead now." Wincing slightly he asked, "But how did you arrive here like this Ken?"

The stolid knight replied, "Prince Nick commanded me to begin seeing to my duties. So I saw fit to bring along these three, all of whom have served with distinction. It was very fortunate for you Lord Max that we decided to sweep in this direction."

Max managed a smile. "Luck does indeed seem to be on my side. I hope we can count on it to continue…"

Hanzou said abruptly, "Luck is all very well, but one should never rely on it. Only fools use the proverb that it's lucky to be smart, but it's smarter to be lucky. You would do well the remember that."

Ken said, "That is true. It is discipline and honor that decide a true test of arms. I highly regret the fact that I only had the choice to attack from behind without being able to announce my attentions honorably."

The mage standing to the side said, "Look this is all very well, but we should get going. Sonnete and I tried our best, but I think about five of those rascals got away. We should get back to the camp and tend to our wounds."

Max nodded, "That's a good idea. You're Hawel aren't you?" when the young man nodded his assent Max continued, "Do you think we can manage to carry Ridion and Gort?"

Ken considered for a moment, "Perhaps… if we could wake Ian and Tao it might be…, but what of you Lord Max? Can you walk in your current state?"

"I can manage with a limp. It shouldn't be too much of a problem."

Ken smiled slightly and said, "In that I case I suggest that we get busy."

---

"And so then," said Torasu, "I finally found the dungeons right? But they were heavily guarded. And then an idea came to me, you see? I lingered in the shadow and told the head jailer, he was the one with keys you know, that Magus wanted the prisoner. So he goes in and brings Haiden out. And then, before he can put the keys away, I _pounced _on him! Yes, it's true I did! Haiden didn't lose any of the opportunity and immediately charged swinging his manacles and taking on the startled guards. He was giving me time to free the other prisoners, because I now had the key and_"

Hans interjected, "General Torl said that Haiden was the only prisoner left. There weren't any more left to save."

Torasu said impatiently, "There weren't any of the other soldiers left, but townspeople, there were those. And they could do some fighting. Anyway, so I managed to unlock two more, and the first one goes and backs Haiden up, but I give the second one the key, because I figured to myself that they'll need my healing powers, right? And so with the three of us all of those guards were being totally humiliated. And then with the other fellow running around there were soon nearly twenty of us! And that's how the uprising in the dungeons started. Now tell me, is that genius or what?"

Hans sighed and reached for his cup of ale. He felt unappreciated. Yes there was truth, Torasu had undoubtedly played a role in the battle, and everyone was all too willing to tell him that it had been the decisive point, but it had been _he, _Hans, who had held Magus at bay.

His lips twisted bitterly as he reflected that it was the same in the Shining Force. Were his talents appreciated there? No he was merely reprimanded for having a man's needs. Although Max had always been fair with him… Max.

His thoughts were interrupted as Alef raised her own cup and cried, "A toast to the excellent help of my good friend Torasu! And also to the health of Sir Luke and General Jarl, saviors of the town!"

Hans drank the toast, but he resented that. Saviors of the town indeed. The extra forces had determined the battle, but everyone seemed to forget that Magus and his troops would have been in better order if Hans had not intervened. Was he thanked for any of what he had done? Oh no, merely chided for letting the King die. As if he could have stopped that! Pure chaos had erupted when General Torl had charged, how was he supposed to have looked after the royal idiot? It was his own fault charging off like that.

And Torl… ah yes Torl. The bunghole was too proud to live, but Hans had that small satisfaction at least.

_How do you like the taste of your revenge now General? Was it worth winning Alterone only to see the town wrecked? _

Magus' troops had put the town to fire before they had been cut down and the town was a mere shadow of its former self. Practically the only thing still standing was the castle. Feeling a malicious pleasure in that, Hans took another gulp of ale. It went down easier this time. He asked, "What do we do now?"

Luke replied almost immediately, "We need to set out for Rindo. If we can get there quickly enough we might be able to intercept that jackass Magus. Even if we don't catch up to him, the situation there is too dire to leave alone. If we can reach Manarina then we might be able to help the mages and win the conflict there for good and all."

Hans objected, "But Max sent us out to save Alterone, and quite frankly it's astounding that four of us managed to do even that much. We don't have the numbers for this Luke."

"Yes we do. General Jarl and his soldiers have sworn their support to us."

"But that leaves Guardiana undefended!"

"It won't matter if we win the war here in Rune."

Hans spat out a mouthful of ale in surprise, "Win the war in Ru… this is, I mean… what are you talking about?"

Luke replied, "Think for a moment, damn you! If we crush this movement against Rindo and Manarina then we can continue through Bustoke, and I'd like to add that since they all know Zylo there, they'll probably be willing to help us, but anyway we can reach Pao and finally decide this once and for all!"

For a moment Hans was silent as the full weight of the ambitious scheme bore down on him. So Luke wanted all the glory after all? However…, yes it was a good plan. Even Hans had to admit that. He would go along with it, but only up to a point. And in the final battle he would at last prove that he was just as good as any of the others! Let them scorn him then.

He smiled slowly and said, "Yes, I think I understand you."

Luke nodded cheerfully and glanced and Torasu and Alef, "What do you two think?"

Alef laughed, "What do I think? What do you mean what do I think? It's brilliant! Pulling this off will be a deathblow to Mishalea!"

Torasu cried out lustily, "Oh indeed, I think this calls for another toast!"

Luke said dryly, "I think you've had plenty old man." He hesitated for a moment and then called out, "General Torl! I'd like to speak with you."

The general walked over slowly as if he were an old, done man. His face was pale and there was a slightly haunted look in it. He leaned on his sword like a crutch.

His voice hoarse he said, "I… I owe you an apology. I wasn't… I mean… I don't what to… it wasn't you I was angry with." His voice died down to a whisper, "And now I can never… never ask or give forgiveness. It's all over."

Luke said gently, "That's all behind us Torl. What I have to ask of you is this: Come with me. Lend me your support in regaining the rest of Rune."

Torl's dark eyes met Luke's and he said, "I will not let Mishalea continue to do this, to… to other people. And I do take my oaths seriously. My sword is yours Sir Luke. As are my soldiers.

"In that case we should set out immediately as there's still the slightest chance we can catch up to Magus."

Hans asked curiously, "Luke, how did Ward react to all this? I mean surely he can't have agreed to let you take the army even if he did let you bring them to save Alterone."

Luke, who had already started off in the direction of the tunnel, looked over his shoulder and said, "He never even agreed to that. He started to argue, and I knocked him out."

Hans laughed so hard he hurt his jaw.

---

"_Please_, Zocc!" begged Magus.

Zocc said disdainfully, "You make me sick Magus. You were equipped with all of the soldiers that you were requested, and yet managed to lose Alterone barely days after you had taken it? Ridiculous. Ridiculous."

Zocc had been an underling of Lynx. He was a shrewd battle-commander, and a very strong fighter. Using a brilliant strategy he had taken Rindo quite recently. It had been easy really.

He had quickly realized that the Manarinian mages had little fighting capability other than their magic. So he had a group of his men press a heavy assault on Manarina as a decoy. When that happened the main group descended on Rindo, which had sent the majority of its army out to help its ally, and he had taken Rindo.

Furthermore he had done it quietly, so the Rindo troops came back without the least suspicion and he ambushed them, causing heavy losses at a relatively light cost. Rindo was no longer much of a factor as an enemy in the way, and he had gained their sea-port.

Magus knew all of this, and knew that as Lynx's underling he was also contemptuous of failure. The only thing that made Zocc any better was that he at least understood that honor had nothing to do with a battle.

Zocc also took after his master in being tall and handsome, Magus reflected sourly. Despite scars on each cheek the man truly was good-looking, especially in the fine white armor and cloak that he wore.

Magus shouted, "It was a surprise attack, and the Alterone resistance had allies with them! How could I've countered that?"

Zocc said mildly, "You could have anticipated it."

"Zocc, please. I need to get back to Skull Castle, to speak with Mishalea."

"To tell your own version of what happened you mean."

"Zocc, I'm you're superior. I demand that you accommodate my wishes and give me a ship!"

Zocc snorted, "Superior officer indeed. You're nothing Magus. If it weren't for the fact that I meant to send some soldiers back with a message for Commander Lynx I wouldn't bother. But the truth of the matter is that you make me sick. So you can get on the boat, and out of my sight."

Magus turned stiffly and started to walk off but stopped as Zocc called after him, "Remember Magus, I'm humoring you and your bullshit. My men probably won't be so accommodating. If I were you I wouldn't throw my weight around on that ship."

---

"Somebody told the lying whore!" snarled Zeon.

He was absolutely furious. His own minions were worse than useless; Mishalea somehow had known of Geshp's plan and as she was allowing it to continue that meant that she had some way to twist it to her advantage.

Hot with rage he continued, "One or the other of you told her. You are the only ones who could have. By rights you should both be dead now!"

Geshp and Cameela stood before him, so far neither had contributed to the conversation.

"Zalbard is dead and could have had no hand in this matter. Red Baron is under my direct control. But it was your scheme Geshp, and I only knew of it just this morning. If anyone told her you are the most likely."

He protested, "Zalbard could've done it and died as a result of Mishalea's direct interference. And it's Odd-Eye who's gone missing!"

Cameela sucked in her breath, startled that even Geshp would go so far.

All the color drained out of Zeon's face as he croaked, "Out."

Geshp stood his ground defiantly and started to say, "I-"

Zeon repeated, "Out." He added, "Or I'll kill you."

Geshp left. Cameela started to sidle out of the room, but Zeon turned his gaze on her and barked, "Don't think I've forgotten you. You get along to the outpost and take command. But I'll be watching you Cameela."

She left. Zeon sighed and sank into a seat. His head hurt abominably and he didn't know what to do.

Geshp, it had to be Geshp! It was his scheme after all. But… but it was true that Odd-Eye had gone missing. He didn't want to face that possibility though. He hadn't wanted to, but Geshp had brought it into the open.

Maybe, it could be Cameela. He knew that, though useful, she had always resented Odd-Eye and been jealous of Geshp. It could be her…, but Odd-Eye had gone missing.

And how much _did_ the traitorous bitch know after all? He had no idea. And Warderer too, the undead, the Shining Force, the Vandal, Mishalea, his own minions… it was a weight pressing down on him.

He sighed again and felt misery sharply claw at him as his mind endlessly reviewed the facts. He didn't want to think of any of that right now. He wanted a drink.

---

Nosshu was a tall man with a deep melancholy voice and sad eyes. Indeed, everything about him was melancholy, but Mishalea didn't care about any of that. Nosshu had intimate knowledge of Ian and his friends, and now that they were a factor in the war his knowledge was more important than ever.

She said shortly, "I want you to tell me everything that you know about Ian and his friends."

Nosshu said in sad sort of way, "I have already told you everything that I know. What else am I to tell?"

Mishalea swallowed her impatience as best she could, although she was furious. How dared he speak to her so? How dare he be so brazen? Though Nosshu had set up a formidable spy network he had no right to refuse her information.

She said tersely, "Start with Ian. What's he like? How does he think? Tell me everything you can about him."

A melancholy smile played about Nosshu's lips as he said, "Ah Ian… yes. Ian would've understood… I could've seen Ian… brilliant of course. Absolutely brilliant mind. He's quiet, but he knows what he's doing and when he doesn't he listens and listens. Well. Oh yes, Ian's absolutely brilliant."

Mishalea said tightly, "You sound as if you admire him."

Nosshu said quietly, "Indeed, I admire Ian very much."

After a moment of hesitation Mishalea decided to let that pass. There was nothing to be lost from acknowledging, even admiring an enemy's strength. After all the greatness of a man or a woman could be gauged by the strength of their enemies.

Changing tack she asked, "Have you picked up any information for me on the line of enquiry I sent you?"

"According to reports there are certain… rifts in the group. Differences in thinking that could prove to be valuable. All of this should be followed up on very carefully though. I wouldn't say that there's any information I have that doesn't need further verification. I think I understood, however, from your last instructions that you already have a contact amongst the group?"

"One of sorts," she replied her mind flashing to Ridion the dwarf. "He made a botch of his last job, but he's all I have to work with at the moment, so…" In truth she had not thought of Ridion for days. When Paezorta had originally brought her the message that he had nearly been killed by some magician she had considered it carefully, and decided that the whole incident was of little importance. If it had been a plot directed at her it had escaped notice, and that was all she really needed to know.

Pushing her mind away from these fruitless thoughts she continued, "I'd like some specifics. Do you have any preliminary names of interest?"

Nosshu murmured, "Well not exactly. For example, reports indicate that Max is tangled in some… failing romantic attachments. That is to say it seems that he's attracted to more than one woman and has not been well educated in the arts of romance."

"Who?"

"It's difficult to say, even my best agent Kalvar has trouble approaching them, but all the same I should say that it's safe to put these three names down, Anri, Tao and Mae."

Mishalea was silent for a moment. She didn't know a great deal about many members of the Shining Force, something which even Nosshu hadn't been able to correct very well, but she knew more about Anri and Mae than most of the others.

She doubted that either of them would be very helpful to her, Mae was too cold to admit her feelings and Anri was as subtle as most politicians. She knew practically nothing of Tao though and there _might_ be something there.

"What do you think the possibilities are in that direction?"

"I should consider it unlikely that any of the lines I've managed to pick up on will be very useful to you in the end, but as far as this goes I really have no idea. You can never tell how a person will react of course, but it seems unlikely that any of those three would actually turn on Max. It's possible of course, but I still find it a rather dubious supposition. If you want my advice on who would be best to work on then I'd tell you Tao. All reports agree that she has a very fiery and emotional personality."

Mishalea digested this for a moment and then said, "On to the rest of it then."

---

Slit paced around the chained man his eyes gleaming with an unwholesome light. The lizardman had ordered the former supreme general, Brogan to be seized and arrested. It was true that he had not been authorized to do that. But he doubted that anyone would care very much. The man had been dismissed from his post the only one who might protest was Lynx. And in that event Slit would merely lie.

He could not have succeeded without the compliance of Tarbeck however. Tarbeck was a lean, wiry sort of fellow, Mishalea's Chief Gaoler. He was a very strange man. Though he was truly minor, nobody ever touched him. There seemed to be some sort of secret hold that Tarbeck had over Mishalea, but none of that was Slit's concern.

With Tarbeck's help he had seized and arrested the former general secretly and had brought him down to these ancient dungeons to torture him. Screams were hardly out of place down here, there would be nothing to alert the others to what he had done.

Tarbeck stood to one side of Slit holding a glowing poker. The gaoler's grey eyes studied the Brogan intently, a florid, stout man. He was powerfully built, but looked as though he had gone to seed. He was also quite bald and had been one of Lynx's underlings until his untimely dismissal.

Slit finally hissed, "I have only von sing to say to you."

Far from defeated Brogan's hoarse voice cried defiantly, "As if you even knew the civilized tongue lizardman!"

Slit shook his head an evil smirk on his face. "I'm your better."

He opened his mouth and tried again, "What is the point of all this? I have done nothing to displease you!"

Slit slapped him so hard that his lip split and blood spattered down his features. "Silence!" shrieked the lizardman. "Your very existence insults me!"

"But why? I've followed your orders along with the rest of the army."

"Don't play se simpleton vith _me_. Allowing you to valk around alive and unharmed is an invitation to my own demise. As soon as sere is von dissatisfied faction in se army sey vill seek to put you into you old position and kill me! By doing sis I am sending a message to se entire army."

Losing his resolve Brogan shouted, "But I've done nothing wrong!" Slit casually curled up a hand and drove it into the Brogan's stomach. Gasping in pain the former general hissed, "Get… get your… fil… filthy claws off of me. Mis… Mishale... Mishalea will nev… never allow it."

"Mishalea need never know. And even visout my own neck to consider I vould kill you anyvay. You have never been a friend to my people or to me."

So saying Slit started to bang the man up against the dungeon wall. Unsatisfied he extended his claws and dug them into Brogan's shoulder.

Brogan croaked, "You are clumsy and savage," his voice full of the most profound loathing.

Slit's tail cracked dramatically before whipping around to strike the man in the face. He snarled, "Very vitty _General_. You sink you can take sat cheap shot vith me? Alvays se same. Lizardmen are veak-minded fools! Brutal instruments vis no capacity for sought! Ve have been pushed into the dust by you and your kind! Vell it is going to change! Starting vith me I shall lead my people to sere rightful place!"

Brogan whispered faintly, "You… you're mad. Mad!

"Mad! Mad! Alvays se greatest minds are called mad! Mishalea is mad, Zeon is mad and Varderer is surely se maddest of se lot! But sey all have seeds of genius in sere madness and so vill I!"

He desperately shouted his last trump card, "High Commander Lynx will never allow this!"

A look of amusement flitted across Slit's features, "Lynx vill have other soughts to concern him. And sat's just anover reason to kill you! You vere alvays Lynx's toady, vereas I serve Lord Eiku."

"You'll never get anywhere! Even if _you _are smarter than the typical lizardman the others won't get anywhere! Remember Rippclaw?"

Slit's face spasmed with annoyance then he said to Tarbeck, "Give me sat poker."

---

Kari smiled slowly. It had taken some hard planning, but she now felt reasonably confident that everything was in place. The only fault was that she was banking, perhaps too much so, on the short-sighted plotting of everyone else in Skull Castle.

She brushed the thought aside and focused on Bangar. She had already seen Gwaid and prepared him, so that left Bangar. Studying the reptile with distaste she said, "I will be leaving for a few days to put our plan in action."

Bangar didn't actually know what the plan was, but Kari didn't care. She continued, "However… I want you to keep an eye on Gwaid for me."

"Sss, Gwaid? I fail to sssee the poin-"

"I do not trust him. He's too close to Mishalea and may easily betray us. It will be up to you to keep an eye on him. And the others too. If anyone gets too close, kill them."

Bangar sat there silently as though weighing her words. Kari knew that she had him though. The contemptible oaf thought in a particular way and she knew that. He was a sadist and he had always disliked Gwaid. Furthermore she had left an unspoken (and thoroughly insincere) promise dangle before him that if he worked hard enough for her then he could eventually have her.

Finally Bangar smiled and nodded in that greasy fashion of his before bowing out of the room. Kari resisted the urge to smirk; she was finally rid of both of them.

---

Guntz was exhausted. Chu Rao had cunningly thrown all of his weight into breaking through the front of the camp where the sentries were stationed. He had also allocated additional power to two underlings who kept throwing their men at the sides of the camp, thus weakening the front. Even Ruburan had been taken by surprise at this strategy.

The defenders had driven back perhaps a dozen various assaults, but Chu Rao always had a relief column to through back at them. And the attackers always fell back if the defenders were doing too well.

Guntz dodged to the side of an arrow shouting, "Anri! Get word to Mae's group. Aye, and to Mead's as well. Unless we get some reinforcements here we won't be able to hold them off much longer!"

Anri started running shouting back, "Understood."

Guntz turned his head back towards the field as he tried to formulate a strategy. He wasn't actually that much of a tactician, but this was his post so he'd have to come up with something. Air support was out of the question. Chu Rao had scores of archers, to try and attack from the air was death.

Even now Julia, one of Ian's lot, was being tended in Lowe's medical tent. Gong was running about and beating back attackers when he had too, healing the others when he could. The two monks, Knuckles and Morton were acting in similar capacities for Mae and Mead's groups.

The mage's and archers were dealing death from afar, but the real power Guntz had were the knights, the only ones who could make successful hit and run attacks into Chu Rao's troops. The other close range fighters did their best to repel each charge, but they were all getting rather tired.

That was when he heard a harsh grunt and whirled about swiftly. Pelle was on his knees clutching his stomach as an enemy soldier was bending over to finish him off. Guntz charged. The soldier looked up at the blur of motion just in time to see Guntz slam into his body, thus ripping him apart.

He glanced quickly out, but none of Chu Rao's columns were sweeping in. Yet. "How bad is it?"

Pelle grunted, "Damn… bastard got my leg. Don't think I'm in any shape for… more fighting."

"Gong'll get here soon."

That was when they all heard it. Chu Rao's arrogant tone was too familiar by now to be mistaken. "Charge them! All of you! NOW!"

Guntz barely had time to spin around before they seemed to be swamped in. The chaos was complete; there was no time to give orders. The battle had taken on a more primitive and sinister undertone. Kill or be killed.

With no room to use his steamsuit as anything more than armor his lance darted out dealing death as enemies surrounded him. He managed one quick sweep of the battlefield and saw a handful of the sentries all in a similar plight.

He tried to choke back bile as he realized the truth.

_This is the end. _Death _comes as the end._

With a vicious snarl he flung himself forward into at least five enemies his lance darting about wildly.

He laughed and said, "Want some more? How about this? And that? And-ARGGH!"

He felt a spear pierce his side and felt the arrows, some bouncing off of his steamsuit, but most just sticking in him. And then Chu Rao himself appeared.

Guntz brought his lance upward, but he was too slow, hampered by his wounds and exhaustion. Chu Rao's heavy fist smashed into his chest, crumpling the metal of the steamsuit.

Guntz crashed over backwards, barely able to breathe.

---

Ruburan's gaze dispassionately summed up the battlefield. There was no hope for survival unless the other groups arrived quickly. Unless that was, Chu Rao was killed first. His troops were held together because of him, and Rubarban harbored enough private hatred of the fat oaf in his heart to be positively eager to kill him anyway.

He dashed his body as quick and lithe as any cat of prey. Moving with ruthless speed and efficiency he kept his eyes on Chu Rao, casually disposing of any of the soldiers unlucky enough to get in his way with a quick knife thrust.

He saw his chance. He made a quick leap, landing on the back of one of Chu Rao's shoulders, and then launching from there towards the war leader himself. Ruburan's boot lashed out, but this time Chu Rao had seen him coming.

Rather than ducking or throwing himself to the side the fat man seized the oncoming boot and tugged hard. Ruburan saved himself the worst of the fall by turning it into a roll and thrusting the same boot into Chu Rao's stomach, but he was a touch slower as he came up. He dodged to the side of a rapidly approaching punch and made a quick thrust with his dagger, but Chu Rao ducked. Rubarban did speedy downward slice and Chu Rao jumped back up, but he was too slow and the dagger bit into the joint at his elbow. The war leader offered another awkward punch and Rubarban moved to intercept when something niggled at him.

Chu Rao's left hand… wha-? He realized the mistake too late as Chu Rao's right arm moved in a vicious uppercut. The ninja fell back completely stunned. Chu Rao grinned evilly and was about to finish him off when the war leader came to an abrupt stop.

He squinted at the raging battle and his face registered disgust. Ruburan surreptitiously glanced in the same direction and saw the same thing that was causing Chu Rao's face to tighten with anger. Mae and Mead both had broken through and were leading the reinforcements to what suddenly seemed like a likely victory.

Chu Rao hissed, "Very well. ATTACK!"

Rubarban stared in shock as another, larger force charged out of the back of the camp.

_Damn him! More men?_

Chu Rao frowned and muttered, "That's not all my me- YARGGHHHHHHH!"

Rubarban looked up to see Zylo the werewolf, who had been out scouting, on Chu Rao's back with his claws digging cruelly into the fat man's shoulders. Flailing wildly and screaming in pain he fell to the ground, his weight smothering Zylo.

The werewolf scrambled back snarling angrily, but Chu Rao turned towards him and sheets of flame poured from his mouth. Rubarban could only stare in utter shock. Zylo was on the ground whimpering as his fur burned.

Chu Rao turned back and bellowed, "Retreat!" He paused for a moment and glanced at Rubarban with a cold stare to warn him that this wasn't finished.

---

Tao heaved a sigh of relief. They had arrived in time to find Chu Rao's ambush force waiting for orders. Max had quickly organized an attack, for they had met up with Prince Nick and Deanna as well, and killed most of the ambushers before anyone realized what was happening.

And then Chu Rao had retreated. Tao stood in the middle of camp thinking to herself that the whole thing could've been a lot worse. Guntz, Zylo, Rubarban, Max, Gort, Ridion, Musashi… yes there were many that had been badly wounded, but everyone had come out of things alive.

_Except Slade. _

Lowe was there already healing wounds, looking exhausted. He glanced at the prince and asked maliciously, "How did your meeting with Solo go?"

For once Nick did not reply immediately. Finally he said, "We never got to Solo. We did, however, repel a platoon led by General Barbara." Nick did not sound smugly satisfied, as seemed to be his custom, but rather subdued.

Lowe frowned, "Your nose is broken."

The Crown Prince of Cypress, King actually, did not deign to reply.

Lowe turned back and said to Max, "Well things could've been a lot worse. We didn't actually lose anyone although it will take some time to recover from this. However we have received an interesting bit of intelligence." He tapped his cheek then continued, "It would appear that Mishalea's new Supreme Commander has ordered an attack on Rudo."

Max's face immediately became intent. He muttered, "Damn."

Tao understood. Rudo was directly on the Shining Force's supply line. Losing it would be catastrophic, but the Shining Force was hardly in position to fight. And even if it were Max had made it clear that he didn't intend to give up this camp.

Finally Max said, "I'll send out another small group just at the moment." His eyes roved over the fit ones and finally settled on a rangy looking centaur with a scar down his face.

"Earnest, I want you, Vankar, and Kokichi to take a look at this. They might be bluffing. But if they're not, you'll have to be prepared to fight."

Earnest nodded once and turned away to make preparations. He was a solitary fellow. His entire family had been slaughtered by Balbazak the Beastly and he had lived for revenge. In the end he served Max. Vankar was a wine-skin warrior, but when he actually tried he could put up a damn good fight. And Kokichi was just a bizarre old fart. Tao had already given up Rudo in her mind.

Deanna asked, "What do we do now?"

Max smiled bleakly, "We're surrounded by enemies on all sides, scattered and exhausted. As soon as we're strong enough I think we're going to prepare a trap for Chu Rao…"

---

Frabell flinched back from the light as the door to her cell opened. Groveling on the floor she begged, "Don't kill me! It was the wizard!" Her voice had grown hoarse and her once immaculate attire had become completely disheveled.

Rilix the Vandal hovered in the doorway and then asked, "What was behind all of this Frabell?" What did you hope to accomplish?"

The undead's voice rose in a shriek, "NO! It wasn't me! I didn't do it! Even now the wizard walks free among you scheme-"

"Enough." Rilix didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to. There was enough power just behind her words. She stared coldly at Frabell and finally said, "What would you give to be exonerated?"

Frabell just looked at her and then blurted, "Anything! Anything! I'd serve you for all time. Sweet lady, please… I… I…"

Rilix interrupted again, "Tell me the truth and you will be freed."

Frabell licked her lips nervously weighing the odds. It was so tempting… but it could be a trick. On sudden impulse she admitted, "It was… I did scheme it, but Bazoo helped me! He was the one who caused me to plot the whole thing out in the first place!"

Rilix murmured, "I see." Then she said in a dangerously soft voice, "You have given me truth tonight Frabell. Truth is a precious commodity and a gift that should not go unrewarded. As I promised, you are released."

The Vandal floated out of the room and then turning her head she said, "Oh, incidentally, Frabell, give Gordon my regards."

The undead creature stared in shock as a blazing inferno of fire came roaring towards her.


	23. Chapter 23: The Long Night

Chapter 23:  
The Long Night

It was very late. Eiku's brow was creased into a frown as he leaned forward and scratched busily at several orders to the accompaniment of flickering torchlight. After several minutes he sat up and his scowl lightened slightly. He quickly scanned through the request for additional men and supplies he had just drafted nodding his head in approval. He did not want Lynx to take credit for the eventual victory in Rune, but all the same he had to admit that the absence of the woman-loving fool did allow opportunities that he would otherwise not be able to take advantage of.

In Lynx's absence Paezorta would over-see his ordinary duties. Such as receiving Eiku's orders. And, though the dark elf was a fool, he was at least realistic and would see the need to grant Eiku the men and money he requested.

So, he was in a tolerably good mood. Rising from his chair, Eiku paced about the richly furnished room. Cellion and Slit were away, both seeing to their orders, so now he would have to strategize. To start with, there was the matter of the sword-master, of Ian. That, however, probably wouldn't be such a problem. As long as he said nothing about it himself, there was no reason that anyone else ever know that he was responsible for setting the fatherless goat molester loose on the countryside. Indeed, though Lynx had nothing to do with the mysterious appearance of the sword-master, since he was supposedly the first to run across him, it reflected badly on the High Commander. Even though he wasn't at fault.

Smiling with a malicious pleasure that he was too tired to feel Eiku moved on to the next thing. Max. The Shining Force. Well for now, he didn't plan on doing too much. Sinking back down into his chair Eiku considered the problem more practically, what to do about the Shining Force? So far, no tactic had broken their power, nothing had actually defeated them. It was true that the Shining Force had suffered losses, but nothing had actually caused them to lose any of the power they had steadily been accumulating. And now they had allies. Having seen the determined and powerful group's actions, Eiku knew that he needed a victory. So he didn't plan on doing anything until he'd put a great deal of thought and effort into it.

In the meantime, let Slit prove himself in the field. For though he didn't know what the Supreme General's plan was, it had been Eiku who had suggested one to him. Let Cellion slaughter several villages. It wasn't much, but it might draw Max out in a burst of compassion and that alone made the butchery worth the effort.

So for the moment Eiku's primary interest lay in the differences amongst his own kind. Although he primarily fought with Lynx he was by no means on the best of terms with Magus. A half-wit if ever there was one. The fool deserved to go down, and eventually he surely would, but he was generally more useful alive, at least at the moment. After all, he did what everyone else told him, and was therefore, just in the nature of a rather powerful sycophant. At least, more so powerful than most ordinary troops. And anyway, Magus was no leader, and therefore no true threat. Paezorta too, was more of an enemy than a genuine ally. The Captain was, however, more so Mishalea's personal servant even though the rank of High Captain was supposed to be the top of the line.

As for their allies, well only a fool would trust any minion of Zeon or Warderer and Eiku was no fool. He did mean to watch them, and to kill Cameela, but other than that he would take no action until he felt that there was no other course. He was rather scornful of the undead as well and anticipated no difficulty from them. He would triumph against all of them and he would acknowledge no other possibility. Although… the Vandal. Yes, she was the one he knew absolutely nothing about. Seemingly loyal to Mishalea, but he privately suspected that there was more than that at play.

After all, why should a Vandal, one of the most powerful beings on the planet, even an inferior one, why should a Vandal ally itself with any sect of darkness? Shrewd, loyal and powerful, yes Rilix was all of these things, but Eiku was doubtful of her despite this respectable history. He found her reticence more suspect than modest, as he did her smug courtesy.

Eiku shrugged Rilix out of his mind and instead considered Paezorta's friends, Bangar and Gwaid. He knew virtually nothing about them, only that they now served Mishalea as did he. Still it had only taken the briefest acquaintance with Bangar to realize what motivated him the most: The reptile was fat, stupid, selfish, greedy, lustful, and thoroughly obnoxious. Still he had the gift of water in his veins, so Eiku supposed he could put up with the oaf for a while, although Bangar did make him sorry that Eiku had ever once called Magus stupid.

Gwaid at least seemed to know his job. Indeed, he kept his mouth shut when not asked to say anything, and even when asked about matters in which he undoubtedly had expertise the reply was always brief, and usually terse. That was just intelligence Eiku suspected. Gwaid probably preferred to stay in the background where no one could ascertain any weaknesses he might have. And smart enemies were inherently more dangerous than powerful ones. Eiku silently promised himself to be sure and keep an eye on Gwaid in the future.

Then there was Nosshu. An interesting man. Although Eiku considered it foolish to rely on someone that treacherous, even he admitted that Nosshu's intimate knowledge of the enemy was valuable, and that he had set up the most able spy network Eiku had ever known. He had never liked Nosshu anyway. The bunghole acted as though he were too proud to shit.

That wasn't Eiku's problem though. Nosshu was more valuable alive than dead. And besides, it wouldn't be hard to order the death of a man that no one trusted anyway. And that left Lynx.

_Lynx. _

It was impossible to understand, to tolerate, to accept how the coward had risen so high. High Commander of all the armies… Jealousy licked at Eiku's insides. He_ knew _the post should have been his and yet Lynx had gotten it. Oh, he couldn't deny that Lynx was a great fighter, but he was no strategist. All of his empty prating of honor was cowardice.

For so long all of Eiku's talent had gone unrecognized, unappreciated, and unwanted. He still remembered years ago when he had been a young man in the army. A rising star they had all said. He had learned much from his father, although he knew that the old man would kill him if he thought that Eiku would rise dangerously high. And so Eiku had looked for a chance to kill him instead, although for a long time that old man had been more useful alive than dead. Oh yes, he had always known that. He had known that old man very well. And alright, so he had killed him, but what of it? If Eiku hadn't, it would have been his own head on the block. And anyway, it had been a politic maneuver. Or so it had seemed at the time…

He remembered the ambush he had set up and he himself had held the blade that drank his father's lifeblood. And then he had been shunted off to the side and Lynx had received the promotion that should have been his.

That useless, cowardly, woman-chasing, bastard had taken more from Eiku over the years than he could ever pay back. But he meant to see Lynx die and he meant to rise to the position that he had earned. Abruptly Eiku felt weary. It was, after all, very late.

He squinted outside the window and muttered, "Nothing to do but wait."

---

Though he was not talkative by nature Earnest had given up trying to engage his companions in conversation. Kokichi took conversations in completely strange turns and Earnest was not especially interested in the details of couplings that the old man had enjoyed fifty years ago.

The centaur's gaze swept around the area as he weighed his options. The moon was shining brightly and the reflection of its light off of the water in the stream was a slightly dazzling effect. Vankar had wanted to make camp here, and though it was a good spot…

"No," Earnest decided at last. "This whole area's too open. We'll press on a bit further until we can find a place that's sheltered enough so that we can see who's coming before they can see us."

"Even if they did see us, _heh_, they'd just figure that we're vagabonds," Kokichi pointed out.

"We're a little too well-armed to be taken as simple vagabonds," said Earnest tersely. "And anyway, outlaws aren't that choosy as to whom they assault. We're here to reconnoiter around Rudo, not to kill a bunch of arrogant outlaws with bigger boots than brains."

"_Heheheheh_," cackled Kokichi. That was one thing that Earnest had never liked about the old man. He had this horrible habit of cackling like that all the time. In this case Kokichi offered nothing more, so the centaur took it as an assent.

Vankar had, as usual, said nothing and continued drinking some rather strong beer. Earnest looked at the other centaur with misgiving. "Why do you keep doing that? You know that if you have to march it'll all come straight back up."

Vankar shrugged. "Force of habit. I'm an optimist you see and I'm convinced that if I keep trying then I will eventually get drunk. Or at least less sober."

Earnest sighed and shook his head well aware that there was no point in coming between Vankar and a bottle. After that Earnest relapsed into a brooding silence. The centaur stroked his chin as he considered the assignment Max had sent them off on.

After receiving disturbing reports of the enemy's movements in the area around Rudo, Max had sent them out to reconnoiter and discover how much truth there was to these rumors. He could scarcely allow Rudo to fall after all; it was a primary point in the supply line of the Shining Force. If there was truth to the rumors then it would be up to him to find a way of stopping the advance of the enemy army before Rudo could fall.

The plan was foolhardy in its recklessness, yet Earnest knew that it was the only chance that the Shining Force had to prevail. Max simply didn't have all of the troops that he needed to block every move that Mishalea made and consequently he was stretching himself thin. Too thin.

Earnest wondered about the other small group that Max had sent out to save Alterone. They hadn't heard any news of how the group was faring. Though he didn't want to admit it, it was perfectly possible that even now their heads were rotting on pikes.

Luke, Hans, Alef and Torasu. Well he figured that if only one group had a chance it would be that one, not his. Alef was a rather powerful mage, and Torasu a gifted healer. With those two backing them up Hans and Luke, both good fighters, would be well supported in any attempt they made. Earnest shrugged the group out of his mind knowing that there was little to be gained from reviewing what little he did know.

His imagination would paint things at their blackest and he had no intention of entertaining those possibilities until he had to.

He blinked suddenly realizing that Kokichi had just asked him something. "What?"

"What I said was, why don't we stop here?"

Earnest took a quick look around. They had halted in front of a small pine grove and there was a stream just outside of it.

"Fine. But no fire."

"_Heh,"_ Kokichi cackled. "As you wish."

It took them only a few minutes to install themselves reasonably comfortably in their chosen camp. Earnest broke out a few rations for the other two and said, "I'll take first watch."

Kokichi cackled louder than ever. "I don't think we'll be going to sleep for a while yet, eh?" Vankar merely shook his head.

Kokichi grinned brightly. "Then it strikes me, _heh, _that what you boys need is a good story. Perhaps you'll hear the one about that wench who was tending to goats? _Heh_. I say, pass the beer would you Vankar? _Heheheheheh!_"

Vankar fumbled in his traveling bag for a moment and pulled out another keg which he handed to Kokichi. Earnest sighed. It was going to be a long night.

---

Hans felt exhausted. To be sure, using the secret passage had made the trip to Rindo very easy, but then they had to evade capture, slaughter a scouting group and make their way across the desert so as to reach Manarina. Silently he fumed. It was all right for the high and mighty Luke of course. The soldiers still insisted that it had been he who had saved Alterone. He was strategizing deeply with Jarl and Torl at this very moment, but was Hans' opinion solicited? Of course not.

He heard a sigh behind him and a youthful voice said, "It's beautiful." Hans glanced at the centaur trotting along behind him. Alain was Jarl's son and looked as if he spent a lot of time combing his hair. Even his armor was rich looking. For all that though Hans hadn't found the young centaur to be snobbish. In fact he rather liked him.

The elf turned his attention back to his surroundings. There was a certain amount of beauty to the desert he admitted grudgingly. The moonlight shimmered on the sand, the air was deep, the sand glowed with a white brilliance… yes there was artistry to it. Hans was too irritated to appreciate it though.

And then he saw it. Manarina. The school of mages. There was a general halt amongst the columns of marching soldiers as they gazed at the elegant buildings. Luke looked decidedly smug. Smug and satisfied. Slowly the gate to the walls rose up. A man dressed entirely in the robes of a mage stepped out and said, "If you would be so kind as to come this way, Lord Otrant has been expecting you."

---

Tao looked on in horror as the wounded continued to come into the healer's tent. Aside from the badly wounded, of which she would guess there was seven or eight, most everyone had minor injuries. Lowe looked exhausted. It was no wonder though. He had already tended to Max, Gort, Ridion, and Musashi given what bad shape they were in and more kept coming in.

Thankfully the two monks, Sig and Cray, were lending him every assistance whilst Gong tended to Arthur who had still not recovered from Lynx's ambush. All the same too many of them were horribly wounded. Zylo with his scorched fur, Guntz barely able to breathe… Tao clenched her fists angrily. It was all too much. They were trying to win against mounting odds and…

_It's too much. _

It was too much to ask that these people should die and be maimed for the sake of any higher purpose. The sickening butchery, the vengeance of Eiku against them… Tao felt rage and helplessness as the pressures built up bit by bit.

Suddenly she blurted out to Max, "I… I never properly thanked you. I mean, you, you saved my life. You protected me. Chu Rao's ambushers, they didn't get to me thanks to you… I, thank you Max." She put all of the love and tenderness that she could into the last part of the sentence trying to convey to him how much he meant to her.

He looked terribly uncomfortable. Finally he said, "Oh I would have done the same for anyone. You, Anri…"

A sudden rage and pain tore through her and she said the first thing that came into her head, "I need air." She whirled round and practically ran from the tent still stinging from the rejection.

She dashed heedlessly forward coming to stop in front of the lake that bordered their camp to the west. Pain lanced through her as she sank to her knees. Why? Why had Max rejected her? She had followed him loyally hadn't she? She had fought for him, lied for him, killed for him, and yet he still turned away from her. Why did it have to be that way? She had given no less than anybody else in the force and yet he still turned to Anri instead of her, that slinking, treacherous bitch. Another voice argued in the back of her mind that Anri was her friend, but she paid it no heed. She had given up so much for Max and it was Anri whom he allowed to comfort him. More pain tore at her as she thought of this.

_Why? Why her? _

She knew what she really meant and was immediately ashamed; _Why not me?_

For all of the rationalization that she mustered one thought kept raging on and on in her mind. _He chose her, he chose her, he chose her._

So tumultuous were her thoughts that she hadn't realized that she wasn't the only one at the lake's edge.

A soft voice said, "You look upset. Has somebody died?"

She whirled round and saw Domingo floating a little ways away. She wanted to scream at him, "_I've died you stupid little thing, can't you see that?"_ She wanted somebody else to be hurting as fiercely as she was, but all she said was, "No."

"Ah," he replied and a long silence followed. Finally he asked, "Are you upset?"

She didn't know how to respond to the question. Of course she was upset, but she didn't want sympathy or understanding or someone to help her or someone to cheer her up. She wanted Max. Angrily she lashed out, "I'm fine. Now why don't you find somebody else to try and pretend to be Lowe on?"

He flinched and she immediately felt bad. They had all noticed that there seemed to be something, well a little sad and subdued about Domingo lately. But the demon inside of her had to be fed.

He opened his mouth and started to say, "That's not fai-" but she cut him off.

"You'd be better off if that goddess you always talked about had left you dead. D'you hear me? You're pathetic, moping about and I wish you were dead!"

He drew back taut as a bowstring. Then he turned to look at the lake and said quietly, "You can have no idea how many times I have thought that myself. I frequently think that I'd be better off dead. Do you have any idea what hell it is to know that you can't… can't…"

And then he broke down. Tao could only stare in shock as the magical creature sobbed. She started to open her mouth, but then she realized it was too late. She had already wounded him far beyond her ability to heal.

Domingo abjectly floated away. Tao kneeled there looking after him feeling rather guilty. Why had she said that to him? She had always liked Domingo, but now it seemed that she couldn't help herself from attacking him.

"I understand you."

Startled she looked up and started backing away in a sudden panic. On the other side of the lake a powerful looking figure stood. He wore a white cloak of an excellent cut that suited his figure. His armor was intricate and looked to be made of many special materials and it fit, she thought absurdly, his slender, muscular frame in a way that was almost too tight. Crooked in one arm was a plumed war helmet and thrust through his belt was a plain looking sword hilt. All of this paled in comparison to the face of this figure, sensitive, delicate, with the pale skin and pointed ears of an elf, but most disturbingly with purple eyes. Tao knew that she was looking upon Paezorta, High Captain to Mishalea.

He smiled. "There's no need to be alarmed. Even against one as talented as myself, the Shining Force would find an easy victory without soldiers to back me up. I'm quite alone."

"You… you… what… why are you here?"

"Merely to talk to you, my lady. May I call you Tao?" he asked solicitously.

"Oh, do shut up." Her voice was too breathless to carry the snap that she had intended.

He smiled again, knowingly this time, and started to speak. "I think I understand you. You're in pain right now aren't you? Max has spurned you." It wasn't a question. "I can only feel sorrow for you in this dreadful plight; I know how it feels to be unwanted."

"You know nothing, about me!" Her voice shook with anger as she continued, "Nothing!"

"I know what you're feeling. What you're going through. Here, let me tell you a few things about myself."

Before he could continue she cut him off, "I don't want to hear whatever offer you have to make to me. I don't like or trust you, you murderous, torturing bastard! Do you have any idea what kind of suffering you and your mistress have been causing?"

Paezorta clicked his tongue sympathetically. "It's absolutely appalling I know. But we only do as we have to, to survive. If we did not then Max, who is so brutal in his methods," he paused for a moment to shake his head sadly, "would surely have cut us all down by now. We wish only to stop this terrible suffering, but we cannot in the face of Lord Max's fury."

"You're lying." She did not sound entirely convinced though.

"Not at all. We sleep knowing that there are brutally sacked villages and raped women, murdered children and absolute butchery. But we did not invite this conflict. The suffering has been presided over by your own Lord Max."

"Don't play innocent with me; you were there when Mishalea tried to murder our king in the guise of Cyprian emissaries!"

He shook his head even as the purple eyes continued to burn into her. "That was not us, but Warderer."

"You're lying," she said again, but her voice carried even less conviction.

"Tell me Tao, would a truly intelligent war leader drop his disguise while there were still witnesses around?"

"He might," she replied, "If one of his stooges was refusing to cooperate or if his magical abilities had been discovered, or if he was incredibly arrogant."

"My mistress is none of these things. We were absolutely horrified to have been framed. You can have no idea how much it pains us to be causing such suffering all because of this grievous mistake. Warderer forced this conflict, not us."

"Stop lying," she shouted. "Ramaladu confirmed as much when Kane killed him! Kane confirmed as much after he was no longer being controlled!"

"The same applies though. Warderer is not only a talented sorcerer and shrewd leader, but he's also an artful deceiver. Is it really that unlikely that he took the guise of my mistress as a safeguard should his plan fail?"

"You're… that can't be…" she didn't finish the statement though.

Paezorta smiled gently at her and then started speaking again in his soft voice. He told her terrible things, about the slaughter enacted on his village as a young elf, how he was shunned by most because he had survived and they believed him to have been implicated in some way, how he lost his brother, how he nearly died in the wilderness because of the cruelty of others and of how Mishalea had saved him, given him a purpose, how she alone had been compassionate.

He finished, "She is a wise and just woman. You would be wise to put your trust in her."

"What do you mean? What do you want?"

"We only want to end the suffering. Why can't we enter into some negotiations and solve this without the bloodshed? Is there any reason to kill each other?"

"I… no, you've been lying!" Yet again there was little conviction in her tone.

Paezorta shook his head and said quietly, "If it's more comfortable for you to believe that then you may, but I think that you know I'm not. Think on things. If you wish to contact me then you will be able to do so. I hope that I see more of you, Lady Tao." He grinned at her suddenly, and then turned away with a slight flourish of his cloak to vanish amongst the trees.

Tao stood there, flushed, confused and breathing rapidly when she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around and saw Lowe walking up to her.

He smiled apologetically. "Oh, I'm sorry did I startle you?"

Tao had always liked Lowe, had always considered him a valuable friend. But just now she felt that she wasn't up to talking to anyone, especially a valued friend. Before she could come up with some polite way of putting him off he noted her appearance and frowned slightly.

"Is something going on?"

She hesitated for just a moment and then said, "Oh, no, nothing. It's just been a long couple of days."

Lowe nodded wearily, "I know how you feel. Arthur is in terrible shape still and with all of the fighting and injuries…" he echoed the sentiment she had felt earlier, "It's all too much."

_It probably wouldn't be if we'd just negotiate with them._

The moment the thought crossed her mind, she was shocked. She hadn't really believed Paezorta, not truly… but… if she was honest with herself she had to admit that things he had said made a lot of sense.

Lowe suddenly asked her, "What do you think of Domingo these days?"

"Domingo?" There was no person she'd rather talk about less just at the moment. "Well he does seem a little subdued, but… maybe it's just from the wound he took recently?" she suggested feeling desperately uncomfortable.

"No, it's not that," said Lowe. "In fact, if I didn't know any better I'd say that the fool's in _love_, but that's ridiculous."

Tao too might have been amused by the thought if she hadn't just thought of Max… Max and Anri. She said abruptly, "Please Lowe, I'm not in the mood to talk tonight. I… I just want some solitude."

"You're not the only one. I think that that fool Nick is coming down here too. He seems rather far away and moody tonight." So saying Lowe went away.

Tao cursed at the thought of being accosted by a fourth person and if it was Nick of all people… slowly she sank back to her knees and then she broke down and for the first time in years wept like a child.

---

Prince Nicholas of Cypress strode powerfully in the direction of the lake on the camp's western border. He stopped abruptly at the sight of Lowe moving away from the lake. Undaunted, he continued along a slightly different path until he came out standing over the water.

Nick wanted solitude this night. He wanted to be able to think. His nose still hurt, but it wasn't important enough given other injuries. He could wait for a healing. And so, he did what he did best, he considered strategy.

Lord Max did have a point; this Chu Rao would need to be dealt with. When compared to all the other pressing concerns that were building up, however, Nick was uncertain as to whether or not it was entirely wise to concentrate on Chu Rao. But then again… most of their enemies were too well-placed, too strong. Perhaps it would be best to remove the dagger from their back. Finishing Chu Rao was something that they could do easily enough and it would serve to inform Mishalea that their cause was far from finished.

Abruptly the prince knelt down by the water's edge and scooped up some of the cool, life-giving liquid into the palm of his hand. He watched it trickle back down into the lake. Lord Max. Deanna.

The two of them had been plaguing his mind. Nick already regretted his rash, personal vow in regards to the latter. Deanna still angered him, but he was no longer as sure as to why. Anyone would resent being dealt a blow of the fist, but that was no reason to have felt so angry with the other man. It was Mayfair's admonition that had stung him; something that Deanna had had nothing to do with. The quiet young man had been a convenient target; Nick's fury was directed at himself.

_I have driven her away from me._

And Lord Max… Powerful, shrewd and a good battle commander, all these things were plain, but Nick could profess scant liking for the man. He had told himself that it was because they disagreed on matters of policy, but that wasn't really true. There was nothing to dislike about Lord Max. He was a good man, true and loyal. Intelligent as well and he had his cause. He believed in justice. No, what really rankled Nick was the esteem that his forces held him in. He had spent enough time amongst the Shining Force already to know that they all loved him.

_As the people loved Father. And my charming uncle. _

Nick remembered both men very well. Father had been a brilliant man handsome, a shrewd leader, a good tactician. He had known how to play the game of thrones and he had played it well. But he had been blind when he loved…

That was what had led to the Cypress Civil War. He had loved his brother Edmond and had never once suspected that Edmond was plotting to overthrow him. Edmond had been a great favorite of the commons, a dashing young prince in his youth, born with a gift for easy courtesy and, in his prime, every bit as handsome as his older brother.

Nick clenched his fist angrily. It did no good reflecting on his uncle, the traitor who had thrown his lot in with Iom.

And now Father had been murdered by this spiriter. For that, for the treachery of his uncle, for the loss of Cypress, for Mayfair's rejection, Nick would gladly have wept. But he was the king of Cypress now, crowned or not. His grief was still frozen, hard and implacable.

_Love_, he thought disgustedly. _What good does love do one?_

Nick was handsome as Father had been handsome, honest, bold and just. But precious few had ever loved him. His jaw set firmly. He would _not_ brood pointlessly on things that had past.

There were many factors to consider now. His claim to the throne for instance. It was the true one, but as long as Edmond lived there would be those who would rally against him. When he had wrestled control of the castle back from his uncle he had gathered up those nobles who had betrayed him. He had meant to execute them for their treason, and he had, some, but there were far too many that he hadn't given the order for before Uglu came…

The traitor. Uglu's informant. That was what stung worst of all. The traitor would have been well away from the slaughter. But who could he be? And where? Was he even now poised in the Cyprian Freedom Force to deliver them into Uglu's arms? Or was he one of the negotiators?

_No._

That thought was one that Nick, would not, could not entertain. The negotiators had all been hand-picked by him. He had trusted all of them, he knew all of them… Although, Shade was unknown to him. The archer had served loyally for years, but his was a familiar, cool face, concealing an unknown man. And Cray was a virtual stranger. To be sure, Gyan had spoken well of him…

And there was the ever uncomfortable reminder of all the nobles who would betray him. To be sure, Lady Sarah, Lord Kashing and a few others had stayed loyal but how many would raise their banners for Edmond should his uncle return?

_I need more information._

Yeesha and Mayfair had told him all that they could of the Freedom Fighters, and that was little enough. He didn't know of all the people in the group and now the realm was set up for fire and steel.

He couldn't go back to Cypress though. Uglu had won that match. With Uglu in the castle, Father dead, and most of the nobles of dubious prospects… there was no way he could go back. Without the Shining Force he didn't have the strength to take his throne again.

Besides, Warderer had thrown in his lot with Mishalea. Warderer's friends were his enemies, the same way that his enemies would become Nick's friends.

Unfortunately his allies were not very friendly towards him. What did they want? He had given them his support, his sword. He had subordinated himself to Lord Max he had fought for them and would continue to do so. They believed that he was arrogant, but what else was he to cling to if not his pride? It had been through his negligence that Castle Cypress had fallen, he was responsible for the deaths that the coup had caused. Also Edmond's War, the Civil War, the War of the Usurper. He shifted uncomfortably, well aware that there were those in Cypress who might call him usurper.

_What else can I give them? I have gone to my knees and they want me to give up the rest of what I have…_

It angered him. Prince Nicholas of Cypress knelt there a while longer endlessly reviewing the facts. Uglu. Warderer. Chu Rao. Mishalea. Uncle Edmond. Father. Lord Max. Deanna. The traitor. Mayfair. The uncertainty of the nobles.

Abruptly he surged to his feet, more tired than he had ever been.

_I am as comely as Father was, strong, loyal, dutiful; aye and just. Why do they follow you Lord Max? Why did they follow Edmond? _

Most of all though, above even the love that his troops gave him, Max had a cause that he completely believed in, a cause that had never once wavered. He had never had to wonder why it was that justice was not enough.

Max had his cause, he had everything. What did Nick have? He wasn't certain anymore.

---

Ridion the dwarf hobbled along towards the lake. Now more than ever he felt the ancient rage rise within him. Ian. Why had he ever followed the man? Always, always it was Ridion's curse to be betrayed…

_I gave the lad everything, good counsel, me axe, me loyalty._

When had he ever gotten what he deserved? And that was when Ridion heard the voices. Cocking his head with interest he crept up very quietly towards the noise. As he got a little closer he could finally hear one of the voices clearly.

"She is a wise and just woman. You would be wise to put your trust in her."

He nearly fell backwards. The elf! He crept a bit closer and had a clear view of them. Paezorta and… _Tao_?

Ridion didn't waste time asking himself what this meant. All he knew was that it was either very good, or very bad. Paezorta had already left, but she was standing there, hot and flustered.

Ridion glanced over his shoulder and recognized the silhouette of that healer, Lowe. With a muffled curse he managed to throw himself flat in some shrubbery. Even on the ground there he had a good clear view of the lake and, consequently, of Lowe and Tao. Ridion blessed himself for his good fortune.

The immediate question was what to make of this? Was Mishalea attempting to sell him out? Or was Tao going to be a profitable ally? Even as he was considering this He noticed a third form, tall and powerful looking striding in his direction. He wasn't sure who it was; he didn't want to move too much for fear of being seen. No sense in letting the others know that he was here tonight.

His gaze fell back towards the lake and realized with a cold shock that Lowe was standing right in front of him. Ridion froze for what seemed like hours. Finally the healer moved away. With a sigh of relief he wiped off the sheen of sweat on his brow and turned his narrowed gaze upon Tao again.

After a good long moment Ridion nodded and smiled as a scheme formed in his crafty mind…

---

Nosshu sat wearily at his table as Rente entered. Rente was one of his best agents, not far behind Kalvar in matters of espionage, and he had a very clear notion of his worth.

"Aha! Boss Nosshu. Ready for my report already? Haha!"

Nosshu ignored the familiarity and merely gestured to the seat at the table. Of all his agents, only Rente dared such impudence. Nosshu put up with it, for Rente was the best. To be sure, Kalvar was a little better, but having two exceedingly good agents was not a bad thing.

Rente winked at him and sat down eyeing the food that had been set out. He promptly took a loaf of fresh bread and broke it in half, proffering the second half of it towards Nosshu.

Nosshu held up a forestalling hand and Rente shrugged an 'Okay, starve if you want to starve' kind of shrug and proceeded to wolf down the bread. After that, he poured himself some wine and finally spoke again.

"I succeeded in finding out what you wanted to know."

"Have you?" Nosshu had been through this routine with his agents so many times that the procedure had become rote. It left room in his mind to reflect on other things. Inevitably it always returned to the group he had betrayed.

Did any of them still want him back, he occasionally wondered?

_I can't Chief Ruburan. I can't. _

Rente smiled slyly, "Oh, indeed I did. You see, it's like this. The others are all preparing for a war. Mishalea's collaboration effort will delay the storm, but nothing will stop it. Her efforts were too little, and too late."

With an effort, Nosshu re-focused his attention. "Pray continue."

Rente's eyes were as bold as his tongue and he leant forward eagerly eyeing his superior. "Barbara and Solo are lining up to fight each other and they're going to tear the Iom ranks apart. Warderer doesn't realize this yet, but I think that the other one, Hindel, does. Despite Mishalea's protestations of innocence, she's probably the most treacherous of them all. With Paezorta's help, she's already found a contact who's betraying Zeon to her."

Nosshu was only vaguely aware of the report as he poured himself some wine. He was still reflecting on Mishalea's last words to him.

"_You never go far enough Nosshu. I will no longer tolerate your moderate successes simply because you are unwilling to dirty your hands a little. You will either be amenable to my proposals or I will put your network under Magus's command."_

Nosshu curled his lip just thinking about it. Magus. The people he had to work with…

Rente, holding a piece of meat now, had stopped speaking. He asked uncertainly, "Uh, boss? Are you listening? I was just saying that the key to Zeon i-"

Nosshu cut him off and asked, in the melancholy way of his, "Tell me Rente. Would you kill… say a babe? Without question?"

Rente considered for a moment. "Nah, I'd have to ask how much."

Nosshu smiled wearily at him. Raising his own glass to his lips he said, "Well spoken my friend. Well spoken."

Rente good-naturedly raised his own glass and they drank together. "As you say boss! Anyway I," he paused for a moment to clear his throat. "Was just saying-" he stopped again to clear his throat before trying again, "that Ze-_kof_ Zeon-_kof kof!" _

He broke off as a fit of coughing enveloped him. His face involuntarily spasmed for a moment and then the coughing resumed. Rente's eyes were scared, and puzzled for a moment. But then Nosshu saw the sudden flash of understanding in them as the dying spy coughed more violently still.

Nosshu watched the spy until the poison finally did its work. With a final whimpering sound Rente slid lifelessly out of his chair, his face congested and black, his throat and chest muscles hard as stone.

_And why would I ever need Magus to do the distasteful work for me? I have hundreds of my own._

Nosshu sat there for a long while with the poisoned chalice and then rose. It was time to bed. It was, after all, very late. Of only one thing was he sure. His spark still lived.


	24. Chapter 24: Before the Beast Strikes

Chapter 24:

Before the Beast Strikes

Warderer thought that his head might split. Very determinedly he closed his eyes. For a moment he heard nothing. Not allowing himself to smile, he cocked one eye open. Immediately he groaned. He had not imagined it after all.

Helplessly pouring himself another cup of wine he said, "Let's start from the beginning. Again."

General Barbara shifted uncomfortably and replied, "I had taken the platoons as you commanded Your Grace, but then…"

Warderer held up a forestalling hand. "Wait. No. Please don't say it." He took a moment to study the contents of his cup and then regretfully downed it. He turned his gaze back to his general.

Barbara looked ghastly. Filthy and bedraggled, her raiment, though splendid looking most of the time, now appeared as though it had been through a war.

_Of course, that's what it was made for_, he reminded himself.

Long cuts covered her legs causing her to lie on a stretcher. She had received a few other wounds, but all paled in comparison to her hand. The top half had been cut away leaving her only with her right thumb.

He asked, "You can fight?"

Awkwardly flexing her left hand she replied, "I will not fail you, Your Grace."

Warderer resisted the urge to form a contemptuous smile. _That's not what I asked, you poltroon._

Instead he turned back to his earlier tack. "You were ambushed."

She flushed. "As you say Your Grace."

"By?"

"It was… it was the Cyprian party."

"And why did your outriders not bring you warning?" For the first time a hint of anger warmed his voice. He _needed_ Barbara back in Cypress. This Uglu had proven himself capable, but capability and ambition often went hand in hand and Warderer did not trust his underling.

Barbara's own temper flared, "With all due respect, Your Grace, it was quite impossible for my outriders to have informed me. They were attempting to ascertain the best means for us to cross a swamp!"

Warderer snapped back. "In that case your columns would have halted and you would have had sentries out at the least."

"We were not," she growled, "stopping there for long."

He laughed out loud. "If you stop with your army, Barbara, and you don't know how long you will be in one spot _then you post sentries._ It's not a difficult concept to understand."

For a moment he thought that she might spit something back at him, but evidently she swallowed her anger as she merely said, "As you say Your Grace."

Warderer sighed. "So. You were ambushed by the Cyprian party who successfully cut down over half of your soldiers and gave you that?" He gestured towards her hand as he spoke. "How did _that _happen?"

Barbara's tone was slightly testy as she replied, "It was a choice between the top of my head or the top of my hand, Your Grace."

"Yes. Well. Be that as it may. I'm also to understand that every single one of them got away?"

"Yes Your Grace."

Warderer's cold green eyes transfixed hers. "And who was the wretch that cut you?"

Barbara described the fight as best she could. "There was general chaos. I was fighting one, tall, dark hair, a blue cloak. I don't know him, but he seemed vaguely familiar. He was quite good, and then a mage did this," she flicked her left hand towards the ruin of her burned cloak before continuing, "and the Prince of Cypress came in hard on my left. As I said. It was a choice between my hand or my head."

"Oh wonderful. Prince Nicholas has found yet another way to spit on me."

Barbara winced as she spoke. "King Warderer, in light of this I-"

His tone was brusque as he cut her off. "This is a setback. Nothing more. Once you've recovered I'll allocate additional troops to you."

"NO!" Shaking her head emphatically Barbara pleaded, "Your Grace, you must not send me. You need me here."

"I know where I need you. In Cypress."

Desperately she continued, "But Hindel or even…" The words caught in her throat though. Of course. Warderer was well-aware that she'd be even more unwilling to have Solo out of her sight.

His tone was dismissive. "Hindel serves me well where he is. As does Lord Solo. I need you in Cypress, General."

Her tone grew increasingly frantic, "You don't understand Your Grace. There's so much I need to… Ravel! You could send Lieutenant Ravel, but I cannot go. Please Your Grace. I am the best hope that you could have…"

Warderer made a frustrated gesture. "Very well. I will consider the point. You have been dismissed."

He could tell that she had more she might have said, but he was not interested. His men bore her off on her stretcher and he buried his face in his hands. The ambush was the least of his concerns just at the moment.

As he had already considered, there was Uglu. He didn't know anything about the underling other than the fact that he had been very successful in Cypress. Warderer paused for a moment, trying to remember who Uglu served.

_How odd._

Now that he thought about it, he realized he had never even heard of the soldier before the coup. And yet… not one of his officers had stepped up to claim credit. _That_ was a very interesting point.

And along with Uglu came the problem of the Freedom Force. And of Death Woldol. The Freedom Force was just a band of thrice-cursed malcontents with a taste for Iomite blood. He remembered the day that he'd received news of King Nicholas's death. A miracle it had seemed. He needed another one.

And Death Woldol. In life Woldol had served Warderer loyally and well, but all the same… He had a total lack of motive in joining his powers with Warderer now. The King of Iom might have been inclined to believe Woldol's claim of a hunger for vengeance, but he didn't seem even remotely vengeful.

_What do you want Woldol?_

And then there was the ever pressing matter of the traitor. Who could it be? Solo, he suspected. Despite what Barbara thought, he was scarcely blind to Solo's ambition and he knew that Hindel would never betray him. Although… could the traitor be Barbara? Was that why she was so insistent on remaining close to him? But _Barbara_? She was loyal, stolid, unimaginative and totally devoted to him. Or was she?

Warderer sighed again as he massaged his temples. Who could he send? He needed Hindel where he was just at the moment. Solo had maneuvered so that it was practically impossible to send him off now. He couldn't afford to trust Barbara; that would be dangerous. And that left Lieutenant Ravel…

All the same Warderer was disinclined to send him either. Ravel was a good soldier, and if he needed to replace Barbara then the lieutenant could be the only choice. However, if Barbara was the traitor, keeping Ravel where he was could get the lieutenant killed and then he'd be without a replacement… unless he trusted in Uglu. But then again, Uglu was already the only choice to replace Gordon. Keeping Ravel where he was would be too dangerous, but sending him to Cypress in place of Barbara was just as dangerous _if _Barbara was indeed the traitor.

He would have sent Gordon instead, but Gordon had had the singular bad taste to get himself killed.

_This is all your fault, Gordon. You've done this to me, you black-hearted bastard. _

Warderer resentfully downed his cup again. Dead, Gordon caused almost as many problems as he had when he was alive. And there was still the pressing question, Solo or Barbara? Even worse, what were Uglu's intentions? What would he demand for taking the rest of Cypress? And with Ravel being the only other semi-trustworthy choice he had…

Warderer shook his head. _Stretched too thin,_ he thought sourly, _I'm stretched too thin._

Worst of all, he didn't have the time to sort through everything. His deteriorating physical condition was a constant reminder of that. And that brought his plans into conflict with the most important matter of all; Mishalea.

He meant to see that bitch dead before he died, it didn't matter to him how many oaths he had to betray, how many people he had to leave dead. He only cared for personal, profound, and complete vengeance. Long ago he might have turned to the light, but the gods had not heard him when he needed them most and they would not hear from him again.

_I hope they are condemned to an eternity bereft of their precious world._

So he had turned to Iom. Iom had granted him power in addition to his sorcery, minions, a domain, an army. But Mishalea was still better. Even with all that he had learned he could not best her. And Iom was a demanding god. Warderer would not have cared if it wasn't for the fact that Iom had brought him power, enough to challenge Mishalea at least.

And even more troublesome than the fact of his illness was that he didn't know how serious it was. It was fatal, of that much he was certain, but he wasn't sure how long he had left. If it was a particularly slow-acting pathogen, he could have as much as fifteen or a dozen years left. Or he could be dead within months. Either way, there was not enough time…

To be sure, he had to find a way to accelerate the process of killing Mishalea. He had made a start with his claim about Odd-Eye. It didn't matter that Odd-Eye had never come to him; Odd-Eye had not been present for days when Warderer had made his claim. And, even better, was the fact that the Greater Devil couldn't simply deny the story; that would deepen the bond of mistrust between all factions concerned. After all, it would mean there were three different tales floating about.

The King of Iom sighed. It had been amusing if nothing else to have stirred up so much chaos. But there wasn't enough time. He was running out of options and of the ones he had left… Warderer felt bile rise in the back of his throat.

Grimacing he rose to his feet and beckoned to a guard. "Bring me Lieutenant Ravel."

---

Chu Rao sat down by a tree consumed by numb disbelief. He couldn't see how this had happened to him. He had come to Rune with an army that was _ten thousand_ strong and now the count was only barely above four thousand.

To be sure, he had lost men in his first assault on the Shining Force, but that had been necessary. He had needed to gauge his enemy. And to have found Ruburan amongst them…

That had been a shock. At first he had thought that he might claim the ninja's head and gift it to Dava. But already, he had had two battle encounters with that foe, and lost both of them. And that was on top of all the lost troops. How had it happened?

When Lumba had come to him with the ambush plan, he had known it was a good one. The village they had massacred professed loyalty to the Shining Force, so eventually some of them at least would have come to it. Lumba had requested the command and Chu Rao had granted it to him. He had also granted the extra men that Lumba had requested knowing it to be a wise precaution.

_And yet, dead. All dead except for those three. Lumba dead._

Chu Rao had not trusted his former second, but all the same he needed Lumba. With all the troops lost he needed his second's wiles. And the sod had gotten himself killed. It was so unfair.

The last battle had been the worst of it though. He had known that the casualties would be high, but with his strong hidden group from the back he had known he could crush the defenders. But then the group that Lumba had failed to kill showed up and ambushed his ambushers. The battle had turned into a retreat and bloodbath. And now the casualties were too high.

Panic gripped his chest. Dava would most certainly execute him for his failure, and he now lacked the troops he need. The Shining Force had been able to take out over half of his army. How was he to counter that with what he had left? And so, in desperation, he had arranged a meeting with Kisaragi.

She came simply dressed with her blade, Krajiin, in plain sight. He pondered if that was a good sign. The two of them had never been on the best of terms.

She said politely, "You wanted to see me?"

He sat for a long moment and finally muttered, "I need help."

A faint smile brushed her lips. "Help? The mighty Chu Rao needs help?"

He flushed angrily. "The Shining Force is too strong. They are crafty… and I've lost too many men. But you could-"

"I command no armies," she pointed out. "That is your distinction oh brilliant war leader."

"I didn't ask you here to insult me!"

"If you paint a target on your chest then you should expect that sooner or later someone will loose an arrow at it."

Chu Rao took a deep breath, and kept his temper in check with difficulty. "If you asked Mishalea for soldiers-"

"She would merely be suspicious of my motives."

"But," he pressed on, "she would have to grant the request. She considers you a valuable spy, and will not want to lose you until she has to."

Kisaragi sighed. "Let me put it like this. Imagine for a moment I get the soldiers and help you. Then Mishalea learns of our mistress. She will turn to fight Dava, for she will be wary of allowing a spiriter to live. That would not gain us anything in the long run."

"If I fail here then all of Dava's main strength is lost! And then we're just as dead. My way, we at least have a chance. And she wouldn't necessarily learn of Mistress Dava. I wouldn't have to claim credit."

The woman hesitated. "That's true enough…"

"If we fail to act now then Mistress Dava will fall."

Kisaragi stood there for a very long time. Finally she said. "Very well."

Chu Rao slumped against the tree in relief. But Kisaragi wasn't finished.

"We'll need to lay them some bait. I want this to be as bloodless a victory as possible."

"They'll just mount an attack against me; they know that I'm weakened-"

"But you're also strongly positioned here. You need to move off to a point where they see a chance to defeat you without much effort." She smiled wolfishly. "And then I spring my trap."

Chu Rao considered for a moment. "There's a ravine not far from here. A death trap I would say…"

"Excellent. Prepare your forces and I'll marshal mine. As you say, Mishalea will grant me them perforce I should ask."

---

Eiku stood imperiously, his body silhouetted against the window. He allowed himself a tight smile of satisfaction. Slit had come to him with some very good news. Not only had he been informed that the Shining Force was about to fall into a trap, but Tarbeck had joined in alliance to him.

It was strange; in all of Eiku's years of serving Mishalea he had never once thought of the gaoler as a person of any consequence. But Tarbeck heard things, and had access to all sorts of people not to mention places in Skull Castle. And so that brought Eiku to the six standing before him, two of which had been scum Tarbeck had found in the dungeons. The other four were all his own men, hand-picked.

Eiku announced, "This is your assignment. Are there any questions?" When there was no response he smiled thinly. "Good. Then go. And bring me her head."

---

Kokichi's voice was unusually solemn. "I've the news you wanted. And all of it bad."

Earnest clenched his hand into a fist. That seemed to be the nature of news. Vankar would be of no use for a few hours at least as he was still suffering the effects of yet another hang-over. And if there was something that had caused Kokichi to stop grinning inanely…

"Well then?"

"The enemy's stationed in Rudo itself. They've taken the town."

Resisting the urge to swear, Earnest asked tersely, "How many of them?"

"I didn't make a head count, _heh._ At a guess, two, three hundred of them."

Earnest frowned. "Three hundred's hardly enough to estab-" His eyes widened in realization. "Dammit!"

Kokichi peered at him quizzically. "This is bad to be sure, but we can easily-"

Earnest cut him off. "Don't you see old man? It's a clever feint. This general doubtless hoped to lure in more of us, so that we'd be leagues away from where we needed to be. As it is, I suppose it's a blessing that only three of us are here but still…"

"It gets worse," Kokichi told him. "Karin and Krin have been taken hostage."

Earnest sat very still. Karin and Krin were sisters, children of seven and eight respectively. They were also the leaders of Rudo, a town that was mostly deprived of adults. To be sure, Karin and Krin were both quite responsible and they had managed to make a successful supply line, amazing though that was.

_Children_, he thought numbly._ How is it that children could be so resourceful? How is it that we live in a world where they're threatened?_

"Gods be good."

"_Heh_, they won't. When have the gods ever been particularly good?"

Ignoring that Earnest asked, "Did you pick out their leader?"

"Aye. A mage I think, purple robes. Strange eyes."

Earnest paused for a moment, "We're going to have to come up with something. Some way in which to retake the town."

Kokichi suddenly grinned that bright grin of his. "There is one bit of good news."

"Oh?"

"Karin kicked that mage, _heh_. He won't want to be hearing the tale of the wench who was tending to goats, not in his present state, _Heheheheheh_!

Vankar staggered away from the stream and looked up blearily, "Wha?"

"Karin," Kokichi explained. "She hurt the general."

Vankar gave him a sour look. "Of course she did. She's a woman, isn't she?"

---

Magus staggered backwards, blood gushing freely from his gum. Mishalea glared at him savagely. She had been quite free with her rage.

"You're trying to tell me that you lost Alterone in _three days_?"

Magus gulped. Under the onslaught of his mistress's fury all of his carefully polished phrases, cunning half-truths, and simple evasions fled from him. He was reduced to a pitiful, whining, cringing state.

The best he could manage was, "My lady…" She slapped him.

She was angrier than he had ever seen her. "Through your blundering incompetence you lost our foothold in three days? Because of your worthless, drunken…" A grating sound emitted from her throat.

Magus jumped backwards. Belatedly he remembered on of his platitudes and he blurted out, "I managed to slay the king of Alterone however."

She seized a crystal goblet and threw it at him. He didn't quite duck it, but he avoided the worst of the blow. "You _idiot_! The king proved that he was no true threat by offering to kneel in the first place. You have lost…" She broke off again, making an obvious attempt to control her fury.

Magus gazed up at her; her wine-dark eyes cold and angry and transfixing his own, her heaving chest as she tried to control each panting breath, her disheveled hair, her full lips twisting in wordless fury and her curvaceous form.

Finally she spoke again, her tone low and biting. "Get out."

Magus slunk from the room with all the grace he could muster. Sullenly he probed the spot that had once held a tooth with his tongue. It hadn't really been his fault. He had been deceived.

Nodding, he downed a glass of wine. Mishalea would understand that, she was just upset at loosing Alterone. Women were, after all, weak, even Mishalea unusual though she was. He downed another. Things would go well enough; he just had to give her time. The gentle sex had to grieve after all. Aye and no thanks to Zocc. Although that fool had granted him the ship, his men had been most rude and made the voyage back a living hell.

After what seemed like minutes later Magus realized that he was giggling. He searched rather ineffectually for his cup and failed to find it. Awkwardly he grasped the decanter only to find that it was empty. He slumped back in his chair giggling some more.

_What's the jest again?_

"Tra-la-la! Hmm, yes! I like that." Throwing back his head he bellowed at the top of his voice, "TRALALALALALALALA! The world is my ginger-bread, it crumbles and it ends up dead! But all the while I eat cheese, TRALALALALALA!"

Why had he never realized this simple truth before? It all went together so well. He could see it… or what? He hazily realized that it was Mishalea in his mind. Sobbing, he confided to his glass, "Nobody needs me, whey! Issat your name? Whey? Hehe, nobody needs poor old me! BuI'll puroove meshelf. An you too lil buddy. They'll calls ush Magush the Whey! TRALALALALALALA!"

---

Max stood abruptly. Eric, one of Ian's band, a half-dragon, had returned with the news. Chu Rao was in a general retreat. If they moved now they could take him in a ravine where he had, it seemed, stopped his columns for the nonce.

Max smiled tightly at the prospect. Killing Chu Rao would be a very satisfying vengeance. He rapped out orders. "Chu Rao's vulnerable, but all the same it'll be foolish to rush in without due preparation. We'll make full use of the fact that he's trapped in a ravine. But, without letting him know that. The main thrust has to fall from the center, straight at him down in the ravine. In order to take full advantage of his geographical weakness, we have to make him think that our strength is pressed on a straight attack."

Hawel spoke up. "Chu Rao's used the same tactics of feinting that you describe every time he's faced us. How would you expect him to fall for them?"

Gort coughed loudly, "Yae're faergettin' oone thang laddie. We've slain oover 'alf o' his forces. He'll bea desperate."

Max nodded heavily. In the short time that he had known the young mage he had gathered quite a respect for Hawel. He picked up where Gort had left off, "Given how weak he perceives himself to be, he won't be expecting trickery from us. Which is just as well. No matter what he thinks, he has the sheer force of numbers on his side. We do need to use feints to be assured of a relatively bloodless victory. This brings me to the battle formation."

He turned aside for a moment to study his nephew. "Ian will take the right. Make sure that you're well concealed and only attack down into the ravine after Chu Rao's committed himself to a frontal thrust." The swordmaster nodded.

Max continued, "Deanna will take the left, and the same orders apply."

The intense young man murmured, "So, Chu Rao will be facing a three-pronged assault under a geographically limiting situation with no way to retreat?"

Max nodded grimly. "Precisely." Finally he turned to Nick. "I'll lead the frontal thrust myself. Will you consent to lead our van, Prince Nicholas?" Max held out his hand.

For a very long moment Nick stood there, silent. Finally he said, "As you say my lord," and moved off.

Max shrugged slightly. "Mae. I want you to remain here guarding the camp. Hand-pick ten to help you."

The centauress asked sharply, "Ten? That's hardly enough to withstand an attack Max."

"It's a calculated risk. I don't plan on being gone long, and in order to make this plan work Chu Rao _must_ think I've got the bulk of my strength with me in a frontal assault. He'll assume that the rest are guarding the camp. If I come in with too few men, he'll smell the trap."

Mae said reluctantly, "Very well sir."

Max smiled. "Good. Now then, the last point. We'll make as good use of our air support as we can. Ian," he asked, "Is your friend still incapacitated?"

"Julia you mean? Yes."

"Well, we can do without her. Domingo, Bleu, Claude, Eric, and Kiddo. Refrain from engaging the enemy until they're pretty well committed to the battle on all three fronts. If they're not distracted by chaos the archers can move beyond reach of our swords and easily pick you off."

Domingo said quietly, "Understood."

Max felt momentarily uncomfortable. He had noticed Domingo seemed to be rather subdued lately. He wondered, what could make Domingo of all people, Domingo who was always bright, cheerful, amusing, witty, what could make Domingo depressed?

Brusquely he drove the thought from his mind.

_Later._

He announced, "We'll have to prepare now if we have enough time to take full advantage of the opportunity afforded to us. Be careful," he smiled dangerously, "but make haste."

---

Hans sat in the library of Manarina, fuming. Luke had immediately gone off with Torl to speak with Lord Otrant, but there was no room amongst the strategists and important conversations for Hans. It had only been his intervention that had prevented Magus from countering the attack on Alterone after all.

He had talked some with young Alain, who had gone off to explore the city nearly an hour ago. Hans didn't care to join him. He had been to Manarina once before and his curiosity was well-sated.

Angrily he drank his cup of ale. Already he had proven himself on this madman's mission, and yet, it was only Luke who got all the credit while he, Hans, was shunted to the side.

_Who's ever shown me a bit of bloody courtesy?_

Well, besides Max anyway. Only Max had ever treated him with the respect that was his due. That was when a soldier, dressed in the livery of a herald, burst in the door and announced, "Jarl, Gener-"

Jarl squeezed past the man into the door and said tiredly, "He knows my title Ned. You may leave us."

"Yes, general!"

Hans looked up and asked sarcastically, "To what do I owe the honor of your presence, Lord Commander Jarl?"

The older centaur winced before saying, "Lord Otrant and Sir Luke are requesting your presence."

"Ohhh," drawled Hans. "They've finished discussing matters of importance I see."

Jarl leant forward and said gently, "A valiant deed unsung is no less valiant."

They were but kind words, nothing more, and yet Hans felt absurdly grateful. Jarl continued, "I hear that you held Magus at bay and caused the general disarray in the castle. It was a masterful stroke."

Hans nodded and then suddenly asked, "If I may presume a question G-"

"Call me Jarl. And of course. We are both of Guardiana, you and I, and you fight beside Lord Max. That makes us equals if nothing more."

"Just now, I've heard it again. The post you were appointed to is loftier than that of general, you are Guardiana's Lord Commander. Why is it that you use the title, general?"

Jarl was silent for a good long time. He reached a cup and slowly poured himself a drink. Finally he said, "That post was never mine. Varios's. Always that post will belong to Varios."

Hans looked up from his own cup. "You didn't like Varios?" That surprised him. Hans had never met a person who had disliked Mae's polished father.

Jarl asked, "Consider this. Why are you so angry as to be rude to me when I first came here?"

Hans shifted uncomfortably. "You know why. I saved that bloody town from Magus and yet-"

Jarl held up a forestalling hand. "It is a similar matter, sir. You did not have to grow up in Varios's shadow. I did. Even now that he's gone… the post, the title. Lord Commander. They still belong to him. I'm a good replacement. Stolid, loyal, unimaginative Jarl. 'He'll make a good Lord Commander. He will be a fine choice now that Varios is gone.' That is what they said when I was chosen. Oh, not to my face of course, but they said it." He lapsed into silence for a long moment. "Lord Commander Varios casts a very long shadow Sir Hans. And it is my curse to stand in it."

Shaking his head regretfully, the older centaur rose to his feet, finished his ale and offered his arm. "Come. Lord Otrant and Sir Luke await."

Hans came to his feet. Shortly after he stood before Otrant of Manarina. The mage stood tall, dressed in pink robes and his eyes held an ominous glow. There was a pink spot in the middle of his forehead which looked uncomfortably like another eye.

Otrant had always been friendly to the Shining Force. He had informed them of their role in prophecy and he had fought Mishalea's troops when they struggled to take control of the Manarina region. But never before had he personally involved himself in the war. Until now.

A faint smile brushed Otrant's lips. "It has been some time since we last saw each other sir. I see that you have taken the crossroads."

Hans bowed stiffly. "Lord Otrant." The mage had always made him feel uncomfortable.

Luke idly lounged in a chair. He said, "This is the situation. Zocc, one of Lynx's men, does indeed have control of Rindo. He's executed the mayor and his entire family. What's left of the small militia escaped and made it here, but even with the power of the mages', they lacked the strength to take Rindo back or to overthrow Zocc. Our presence here changes this. We have two strong armies, a small militia force and," he paused to take a breath, "some mages. I hope."

Otrant turned his gaze on Luke. "You do have our power Sir Luke, such as it is."

Hans abruptly asked, "And you Lord Otrant? Why do you involve yourself now, after all this time?"

The mage actually laughed. "This is the war I was born to fight."

Torl had been standing by the window, gripping the sill so tightly that his knuckles were white. He turned and asked hoarsely, "How many mages do you have to offer us, my lord?"

Otrant replied, "We have one-hundred-seventeen mages with the ability for combat magic and some among them have even been combat trained. I have, however, only a hundred to offer you. Any few trained mages can hold Manarina as it is a warded place. Therefore seventeen must remain behind."

Torl inclined his head. "As you say sir. We are well aware of the necessities of war."

Luke shrugged. "We already have our strategy. This Zocc has shown us two things. The first one, a small force can hold Rindo against a large one. Secondly, he has teeth. The point is to use his own trap against him, though with slightly different aims as we have numbers on our side. Our main strength is going to depart for an attack on Rindo. Now, Zocc will realize that with such numbers, although he could take many of us down, fighting from Rindo itself would be futile. Therefore, he'll have to take the field or retreat. And he can scarcely retreat."

Hans nodded, "Because, in such rough terrain, there are countless ways to successfully fight against a larger force than your own. He won't be foolish enough to engage you on the desert."

"Precisely. But the main strength is just a feint."

Hans smirked. "That much was obvious. You mean to take the town by tricking him, as he took it from the militia."

"Quite. As he moves to engage this new threat the only way he can, a smaller group will descend on Rindo from the north. In order to circumvent the mountains, we'll use the magic of the mages to get that force over there."

Alain, who had been standing by a bookshelf the whole time, turned as he fit a gauntlet over his hand. "Indeed. The plan is a good one Sir Luke. It is time to see who is stronger."

Luke nodded. "As you say. This force that takes the town will be commanded by Alain. And you will be part of it. You did well enough in Alterone."

Hans glared at Luke. The dwarf still blamed him for the death of the king. Hans opened his mouth to protest when Otrant cut in, "Twenty of my mages will accompany your force."

Torl turned. "We want the force to be small and maneuverable. Therefore, Jarl and I will grant you fifteen soldiers apiece. Fifty swords ought to be strong enough without being too big."

Jarl nodded his assent. "This is so. Torl and I will be with the main thrust. Much as I dislike sending my son into a situation without me, Zocc will not be deceived if he does not see the generals with Sir Luke."

Alain smiled. "You worry too much Father. I've proved myself before now."

Jarl shrugged. "This will be a different sort of battle than any you've fought before."

Hans interrupted, "There's just one problem. Even if we displace Zocc he just gains the terrain which is where he can fight best anyway. It doesn't get rid of him."

Luke's eyes gleamed. "That is the point. I'll be dispatching a third group led by Alef and Torasu. They'll also be small and act as a guerilla unit against Zocc, and keep stinging him. Once he has enough of these stings he'll try to retreat back towards Rindo. By this time you and Alain will have taken the town. With the armies as the rock and your force as the hard place we'll crush Zocc against Rindo's walls."

Slowly Hans nodded. It was another good plan. And he could scarcely complain. He had been granted an important command.

Otrant held up a forestalling hand. He gestured towards the only other mage in the room. "This is an apprentice, Felic Ugan. He will be the leader of the mage's in your group Lord Alain."

Hans nearly bit his tongue at that. With Alain along, his command was purely nominal. He had overlooked that, obvious though it was. Alain smiled at him in a friendly fashion before sliding his helmet on. "Shall we?"

---

Cameela moved along impatiently. She had sent her forces on to the perimeter ahead of her, for she had needed to stay behind at Skull Castle for a day. Her business there was now completed and so she moved to rejoin her forces. The Shining Force would fall and Lord Zeon would finally finish the others. Of this, she was certain.

Geshp though… He had killed Zalbard and betrayed them all to Mishalea, or she was a frog's uncle. She would have to devise a trap for him. Something so simple that he would never see it coming.

Something niggled at her. Had she heard something? She wasn't sure. Cameela spun about her hand on her ball and chain. She yanked it out just in time to counter the cold steel before turning to counter another blade. Assassins.


	25. Chapter 25: Interlude Part 1

Interlude

Part 1

"Chief, we-"

"Shut up," snarled Alfred. "Don't bother me now. Later."

The other man muttered something under his breath and scurried away. Alfred barely noticed him; his mind was thousands of miles away. He couldn't be sure, but for a moment he thought that he'd felt a flicker of his power. The power that had been denied to him since the destruction of Odegan.

He felt hatred lick his insides as he thought again of the Fairy of the Gudo Valley.

_The bitch will pay._

The rage welled up inside of him again, and for an eternal moment he was back in Odegan, back the day that Mars had come into his life. Into everybody's life.

_It was a beautiful day. The air was crisp and clean, and his soul felt at peace. Today of all days he knew that the son of the legendary Ser Jiles was coming to the Castle. Alfred nodded politely to the good morning that young Cayne shouted cheerfully at him. _

_Cayne was a young man, slight of stature, yet he had been a guard for longer than Alf albeit, only by a couple of months. Morley was a little older; he'd been a guard for nearly two years. He was powerfully built, and Alf knew that Ser Kaizel was considering him for sergeant of the junior guard. _

_Alf admitted to himself that Morley would be a sound choice. He had seniority and knew his guard duties well. Privately of course, he would have hoped for command, but he knew that was unrealistic. He was after all very new to his post. _

_Alfred was the last of a long line of an aristocratic, indeed, even a royal family. Centuries ago, the nephew to King Arris had been granted a very powerful holding and so had Alfred's family been born. _

_Ser Kaizel was as much of a family as he had ever had. The old commander looked out for him. Alf was grateful, of course he was, but privately he felt that he never matched up in his mentor's eyes. Ser Kaizel had this way of watching him, so careful, so watchful, as if nervous that Alf might do something. _

_Abruptly the young man shook his head. _He's just old. Nothing more. _So Alf stood there quietly wondering when the son of Ser Jiles would arrive, and what he would be like. _

_A young fellow, more a boy than a man really, walked into the room looking about him nervously. Alf paid him no mind. A country lad, most like, come to join the guard. Ser Kaizel was always looking for more men and the treasury could afford to hire. _

_The boy walked towards the hall. Alf had to resist the urge to smile, the Chancellor and Ser Kaizel were hard at it this morning. Something to do with the elves and the Hobbit Delegation. Not that Alf had ever paid them much mind. Although, perhaps he should… It was said that elves had much knowledge of arcane matters. Perhaps the Hobbits would as well. _

_Alf had been born with power. It was rare for a wizard to have the ability to summon both fire and water, but it had happened. That wasn't what made Alf special. He knew that he had power, because there was no one else with his range of talents. No one else who could call on both the light and the dark. _

_He kept his arcane abilities as a secret, but he knew that they alone merited his worth. He would rise high, in the guard. High enough to realize his ambition, and ask for the hand of Princess Satera, King Ulrich's only daughter. _

_He abruptly returned to the present as he heard the voice of Ser Kaizel, at first reasonably loud, but slowly rising in volume. "Alf!... Alf! Alfred! Are you around?" _

_He ran over quickly taking note of the new boy as he gasped, "Yes, right here!" _

_"Can you come over here?" _

_"Yes, right away, sir." _

_Ser Kaizel smiled at him and gestured to the boy, "Since I am quite busy as of late, I have asked Alfred to watch over you. You two will be working together. I'm certain you'll make a great team." _

_Ser Kaizel then turned aside to continue his discussion with the Chancellor, a rather pompous older man with a thick neck and a huge white moustache. Alf heard none of it. He was staring at the boy, stunned. _

_Could this pathetic looking specimen be the son of the great Ser Jiles? Alf couldn't imagine so, but Ser Kaizel had told him days ago that he would be assigned to show the hero's son the ropes. _

_Finally he managed, "Nice to meet you, I'm Alfred." Finally readjusting the shock he continued with greater confidence, "I just signed on here a few months ago, so technically I'm new, too. And you, obviously, are Mars." He paused for a moment and asked, "That is the name, correct?" _

_The boy nodded at him. _

_Alf smiled condescendingly at his charge, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I was expecting someone much, uh,… larger. Ah well, size is overrated. You and I are gonna make a great team anyway!" _

_He gave Mars a few instructions, adding that he himself would be off in the dormitory making sure that he'd be awake for the night watch that they'd share. The other boy walked off down the hall. _

_Alf paused for a moment watching him. Ah well, Mars didn't seem that bad. And working with Ser Jiles son would be a wonderful way to start making his mark. He'd also have to speak with Ser Kaizel and discover just what it was that his mentor didn't trust him about. _

I am a man grown. I have a right to know. 

_He started walking away whistling lightly. As he passed Cayne the brown-haired guard sniggered at him, "Where you off to, candy pants?" _

_Alfred's smile curdled like warming milk. "Shut your mouth you poltroon or I'll shut it for you!" _

_Cayne grinned at him. "Is that a challenge?" _

_Alfred stood there for a moment. Then he nodded and said, "Aye." _

_Morley looked up from his post at the barracks door. "Oho, I'll have to see this. Young Ser Starry Eyes against bold Ser Candy Pants? Should be priceless. Why not make it a bet?" _

_Alf smiled, "Ten gold coins says I win." _

_Cayne nodded, "I'd agree to that." _

_Morley chuckled, "I'll put mine in. Why not see if Mars'll pitch in too? It'll be a good way to get him into the club." _

_Alf nodded, "Done and done. Tomorrow?" _

_Cayne said, "Sure. Try not to collect any more candy though." _

_Alf snorted and continued on his way. _


	26. Chapter 26: General Assault

Chapter 26:

General Assault

Max stood at the head of his group, waiting for the moment to strike. He would open the battle, but he had to try and give Ian and Deanna both enough time to get in place.

Max felt strangely alive. He had never relished bloodshed, but dealing out Chu Rao's justly deserved punishment had a certain appeal to it.

Before Ruburan had left with Ian he had kept approaching Max, telling him to be wary of a trap. Chu Rao, after all, was nothing if not crafty. Others had suggested the possibility as well, but Max was confident in his plan. If Chu Rao was attempting a trap, then it would be the same trap that Max was trying spring on him. Therefore fighting would break out between Ian and Deanna's groups against whatever troops Chu Rao had stationed there. That would draw Chu Rao in as well as Max as they would both realize that their trap had failed and been discovered. If that happened… well then, the outcome of the battle would be a gamble. It would depend on which force gained the ridge in the end. But Max wasn't convinced that Chu Rao was aiming for a trap; given the losses he'd sustained it seemed much more likely that the simple explanation was the true one; he was in a full retreat.

Prince Nicholas of Cypress strode forward. Max, with difficulty, refrained from sighing. The two of them had been arguing all throughout the march about the best tactics to use against Chu Rao.

Nick started by saying, "I still think it would be best not to move unless we know for certain that Ian and Deanna are in place."

Max explained patiently, "We can't take the risk that contacting them would alert Chu Rao to our presence. We just can't. Our plan relies just as much on the element of surprise as it does the geography and Chu Rao's own blind spots as a war leader."

Nick made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "You are… you are right my lord."

The prince started to turn away, but Max put a hand on his shoulder. Nick had proven himself unlikable, but it seemed to Max that he was making an effort. And so, if only for a moment, Max reached out. He asked, "Tell me, how did your battle with General Barbara go? You haven't said anything of it."

Nick's answer was slow in coming. "I doubt that she will prove much of a threat any longer my lord."

Max arched a brow. "You didn't claim to have slain her before."

"Nor do I now. In the battle. She was dueling Deanna and whilst she was distracted Natasha set her cloak ablaze. It was then that I saw my chance and lept in hard on her left. Pressed as she was from Deanna's attack there was no way for her to dodge my cut, so she turned her shield to block Deanna's blow and her right hand to block mine. She doubtless would have used her axe if she had had room to maneuver, but…" He gestured vaguely. "As it is I cut away most of her right hand. I doubt she will be able to wield a weapon with much skill if at all."

Max blinked, startled. "She was a good warrior?"

Nick was quiet for a moment before saying, "One of the best."

"In that case, you've won us a great victory. You remove the threat of her axe-hand from us and deal a crushing blow to the morale of Iom." Max put as much enthusiasm into the compliment as he could manage. The victory _did_ please him, but it was difficult to treat Nick fairly.

Oh, Max didn't deny his fighting ability, or his command of strategy for that matter, but the prince was arrogant and smug. Well aware that his praise had sounded somewhat forced Max struggled to find a suitable comment to fill the silence between them.

The best he could manage was, "You are not pleased with the upcoming battle my lord?"

Nick shrugged, "Oh, it was bound to come to swords between us and Chu Rao eventually. Swords that would slay rather than weaken that is." Nick paused for a long time before continuing, as though he changed his mind in regards as to what to say. "No, what makes me uneasy Lord Max simply is that this is Chu Rao. This man serves the one who slew Father. That is what preoccupies me." He gave a stiff bow. "Have I your leave to go and prepare myself for battle, my lord?"

Max offered him a weak smile. "Of course."

Prince Nicholas bowed again and turned smartly on his heel marching off. Max stood there for a moment wondering what it was that had subdued Nick. Perhaps there was hope for the princeling yet. Ever since the battle with Barbara Nick had been quiet. Courteous. But most of all, subdued. Much the same way that Domingo seemed a little sad these days.

Max clenched his fist abruptly. He had failed Domingo as he had failed so many others. Finally he walked off to find Anri. Though she was his queen, Max knew that he could talk to Anri. He always had been able to. And without Lowe at his side to talk to…

Max found her sitting beneath the shade of a tree. He asked politely, "May I?"

She gestured to a spot that was close enough to her to be intimate, but far enough away to be courteous. "Please." As Max sank down she continued, "I presume this isn't just a polite visit?"

Max smiled ruefully. "No. It isn't." He struggled to find the words he wanted and finally settled on the truth. "I'm worried."

Anri arched a brow at him. "We all are. These are worrisome times."

Max looked away for a moment. "I thought… I thought that I could handle all of this. That the battles would be the hard part. And yet, I've won all my battles. I can take care of my enemies, but… I can't help feeling that I've failed my friends."

Anri leant closer to him. "You haven't. They all draw strength from you, Max. You're the beacon that keeps them going."

"Yet there are those that die. Musashi and Hanzou hate each other as do some of the others. Domingo's depressed and my brother's been murdered. Aye and my friends now… Can I even trust my friends? We left Ward back in Guardiana as Lord Regent. Ward who's supposed to be on our side. I don't trust the man. I trusted the king of Alterone and he chose to be Mishalea's bootlicker." Max shook his head feeling scared and small and inadequate. "Where did it all go wrong, Anri? Where did it all become so confused?"

Anri said very softly, "It didn't. You're the one who's confused, not the times. Max, I have been at your side since this war started and I have seen you through it. You've always been sharp, focused, committed to your path. What's really causing you to waver? The losses are saddening, but…"

Max turned away awkwardly. Finally he croaked, "I don't… Oh, dammit, yes I do. I… I can't articulate myself emotionally." His voice was bitter. "I've never been able to. Easy friendships… but…" He looked back towards her. "I can handle other people's sorrows, but not my own."

Anri looked at him very intently. "Max…" her voice was despairing. "If this is about me…"

Max's shoulders hunched. "It isn't," he insisted. But even to him the words sounded weak. _Is it truly though? I'd thought not…_

"Don't you understand Max? You're…" Anri's own voice broke with a sob. "_You love too much._ You don't see the flaws in your friends, not the ones in me, in Lowe or even in this man you call nephew."

Max's head jerked upright. "Ian is-"

Anri cut him off. "I know you trust him, you believe him, but you don't know him Max. And I… You have always been transparent. I have known that you regard me as… as…" Her voice broke again. "I cherish you as the brother that I never had. But why can't you see that there are others… waiting?"

Max had not been listening, not after she said 'but you don't know him Max.' He said coldly, "I know Ian to be my brother Kane's son. Good day, Queen Anri."

Anri sounded close to tears as she said, "Max… I didn't mean…"

He did not turn back.

---

Mishalea sat back in her chair, massaging her head exhaustedly. Unsettling new developments had occurred. Turning back to Rilix she asked the obvious question, "Do you have any idea who killed Frabell?"

The Vandal replied, "As to that, I couldn't say."

"Wonderful," muttered Mishalea. She would have eventually killed Frabell herself of course, but she hadn't the time to discover what it was that the undead had known. And now it seemed unlikely that she would ever know. Thankfully, Rilix had come to her with the information. After Tarbeck had discovered the murder, she gathered, he had gone to Eiku. Who had gone to Rilix. Who had finally come to her.

If that had been the only thing, Mishalea would not have been worried. But Magus had failed in Alterone and the Shining Force had reclaimed the area. Even worse, reports indicated that the leader of that particular group, a certain Sir Luke she believed, had gathered up all the forces that he could and had struck out toward the Manarina area. Her domination of Rune was now truly threatened. As it was, she supposed that it was a minor blessing that she had given Lynx his new assignment, but even so she couldn't honestly profess certainty over the outcome if it came to swords between Lynx and the Shining Force.

_And_ Nosshu had told her that one of his best agents, Rente, had vanished. Most likely killed. Then, there was also the matter of Ridion the dwarf. She had not been in contact with him recently, not since he had joined the Shining Force. Nor did she know who had tried to kill him. Furthermore, there was this other war-leader in Rune, Pu Trao, or some such, and she had no idea what he was after. He was attacking the Shining Force for now but… She hadn't heard back from Kisaragi or Gepple recently either. Although she had arranged to meet with Kisaragi later today.

And there was the ever present matter of Warderer; she had learned the hard way not to underestimate that embittered agitator. Unfortunately, he had become much better at keeping her off balance. She knew, of course, that all of his games led back to one motivation, ultimately, but he played the game curiously in other ways and she didn't have the energy to spare that would be required for dealing with him. She clenched a fist.

_More wine. _

With a slight flick of her hand she re-focused on Rilix, "So Frabell is dead. Well, it matters little in the end. Have you been able to discover anything?"

The crone was silent for a long time. Mishalea started to fear that she had been too abrupt in her inquiry before the Vandal replied, "Gepple. He's betraying you."

Mishalea snorted. "Gepple is the sort that betrays everyone. His double-dealings do not concern me overmuch."

Rilix's voice was breathy as she murmured, "I see. And it would it concern you to know that he's gone over to Zeon?"

"Perhaps," the dark elf conceded. "It would depend, largely, on how… loyal he chose to be."

"You rely on him too much."

Mishalea's tone was slightly irritable as she replied, "I don't have much of a choice. I've found no one else who can penetrate Death Woldol's band at all."

Rilix inclined her head. "As you say Lady of Darkness."

Mishalea could never tell if Rilix meant to mock her with such statements, or not. She moved on briskly, "Despite the… set-backs we have suffered, we're not really so badly off. And we can start by setting several threads in motion. The first of which being, an associate I want to introduce to you."

Rilix smirked at her. "I believe you mean to say, re-introduce me. Someone that you've found who's willing to change their allegiance, no?"

Mishalea, with difficulty, kept the irritation out of her voice. "Naturally."

Rilix continued speculating out loud, "And who could it be that you've found? Gepple's already betrayed Death Woldol, it can't be him. Warderer or Zeon? Zeon I should suspect. Warderer's insane, but you've consistently failed to get an ear close to him. And the only one that seems a good prospect is quite removed at the moment. So then Zeon. But who should betray him to you?" She grinned at Mishalea. "And who would have enough influence, and enough caution to keep a foot in more than one camp? Mayhaps that short advisor who has Zeon's ear?"

Mishalea's smile was, as she well knew, a trifle forced. She replied calmly, "You would be quite correct in that assumption, yes."

As she spoke the words, Geshp stepped into the room. With a thoroughly insincere cry of delight he moved forward clasping her hand and Rilix's in turn. "My dear ladies. I cannot say how utterly _charmed _I am to be in your presence." With a smile that was more of a leer he asked, "May I?" gesturing to another chair. She noted with disgust that his hands were ever so slightly moist.

Rilix spoke before Mishalea could answer, "Of course. And now, to business Lord Geshp."

He playfully wagged a finger at the Vandal as he took his seat. "I am no lord, but to business as you say." Mishalea's head was beginning to hurt. She hoped he would not remain quite so gushingly cheerful throughout the meeting. Her hopes were in vain. With another smile that was akin to a leer he offered them both some hippocras.

_Is this his attempt to poison me? For his sake, I sincerely hope not._

She courteously declined the offer, although Rilix accepted it. Geshp himself produced a goblet from which to sip. Settling back comfortably he opened the matter at hand with an innocent inquiry, "You had need of me, madam?"

Mishalea wondered how long he'd keep it up. The whole time, most like. If only to try and gauge her reaction. She replied, as pleasantly as she could manage, "Indeed. You are, of course, well aware of the circumstances that have led us to this point, as it may fairly be said that you have brought us to it."

He waved a deprecating hand. "I? I have done nothing madam. A minimal trifle. King Zeon had received my suggestion well, and as we are allies, I thought that you should be informed."

Rilix leaned forward, her voice soft. "Of course. And yet… we know as well as you do that such an action does not come cheaply. Already Zeon searches for the one who he considers to have betrayed him. And his punishment will most like involve death."

Geshp's eyes flickered ever so slightly. "Will it? I haven't the slightest idea. Really, you paint things in too extreme a light. King Zeon is not in the least unduly distressed by the situation."

It was an admirable dodge. Mishalea decided to employ one of her own. "King? Zeon is no true king, he is a pretender."

Geshp shrugged ever so slightly. "As you say madam. I was merely attempting to be polite. Even usurpers should be granted the small courtesies."

"Zeon forfeited that right by rising against his king and master. Be that as it may. I did not bring you here to discuss treasons that are thousands of years old."

Geshp opened his mouth, hesitated and finally said, "Very well." The cloying tones were gone from his voice. It was now thin and sharp as a whip. "I came to you with that information. And I have received, I think, your gratitude. What more do you want?"

Mishalea smiled slightly. Now they could actually negotiate. She nodded and Rilix pounced. "You have not gone so far that you cannot jump back Geshp. We want more than your petty assurances, we want you."

His tone was dry as he replied, "How heartwarming. You do realize that that's rather a vague statement, I assume? I am not certain that you are the sort of friends a wise man would want to have. Nor am I certain that I wish to be caught up in this quarrel between two factions."

"You already are involved," Rilix told him. "You became involved the moment you swore yourself to Zeon's service. You became even more involved the moment you came to us. You cannot back out now."

"I see." His tone was flinty. "My loyalty does not come cheaply."

Mishalea laughed at that. "Loyalty? What loyalty? You've already sold your last master."

Geshp bristled, "I am loyal to those who are loyal to me. It was Zeon who broke faith, not I. I'm merely paying him back with his own coin."

Mishalea snorted, but did not pursue the point. She said quietly, "That doesn't matter and you know it. You need us as friends, or sooner or later Zeon will kill you. You need someone who will kill Zeon for you."

Geshp slowly shook his head. "I don't know that that can be done…"

"It can be," she assured him. "Even now I have the power that is needed for such a feat, but there is much that must be done to get that far. Zeon still must be ambushed. You must betray him to us so that he can be killed. And once he is… well your former colleagues will have a choice between me or Warderer."

Geshp sat still for a long moment. "I have no choice. Very well. But, you need me for that. I still require a reward for my loyalty."

"Name your price."

"A seat on the council. Aye, and a rank that is at least equal to that of Lynx."

Mishalea ground her teeth. "Very well."

Geshp's eyes narrowed. "Your endorsement doesn't sound very enthusiastic my lady. I remind you, whatever power you have; you'll need my help if you're to have the slightest hope of slaying Zeon."

"And you will be duly rewarded."

Geshp paused for a moment, nodded, finished his hippocras, rose to his feet, clasped their hands again and begged their pardon for needing to hurry off on important matters.

Rilix said bluntly, "You might have accepted his terms more… sweetly. That one is right. We do need him."

Mishalea's voice was tight. "He has no cause to fear. I pay my debts."

"All the same… A wiser woman would give him no cause to doubt."

Mishalea's lips twisted. She was well aware of how much she needed Geshp, but it rankled. The plump little devil thought a little too clearly, learned from his mistakes a little too quickly, and could just as easily help Zeon kill her than the other way around. As such, she did not appreciate Rilix's constant warnings. She knew what the dangers were, aye, she already wondered if she might have made a mistake.

Geshp was too clever by half and too _treacherous._ She did not wish to leave her life in his faintly scented hands, but she had no choice. Cameela was ambitious enough, but too proud to change allegiance unless something major happened. Red Baron wasn't what she needed, and Odd-Eye's loyalty to Zeon was almost fanatical. Geshp was the only option, and handling him was like handling a sword without a hilt.

Angrily she put the advisor from her mind.

_I am just being cautious. That one is nothing to me beyond the aid he'll give us. _

So she turned back to Rilix and said flatly, "Gwaid has taken the field as well."

Rilix cocked an inquisitive eye at her. "Gwaid? You've put Lynx in Rune, Solo with his fort, Cameela with her perimeter, Bazoo with his sentries all on the front here and you've sent Warderer to secure borders. What do you need Gwaid for?"

"Pillaging. He will burn the lands, give them fire and steel. This does two other things. To start with, it shows me if he's as competent as he claims. If he is, then this should be easy enough. Secondly, it gives me Gwaid. He serves me, aye, but he demands the honors of battle. If I grant him this, I keep him."

Rilix nodded, though a trifle unhappily Mishalea was careful to note. The Vandal asked, "And Bangar?"

Mishalea hesitated now. Truth to tell, Bangar had completely nonplussed her. He claimed that he had taken over all the water in her domain, something she would have Paezorta verify, but she wasn't sure what else to do with him. In truth, she was becoming sorry that she had ever gotten entangled with him.

_A mistake. Paezorta made a mistake. _

Aloud she lied, "Bangar is currently engaged in a task the nature of which is most… delicate."

Mishalea paused again. Rilix was smiling at her. Was it a knowing smile? Or merely a twitch of the lips? She wasn't certain. Hastily she continued, "There is one more item to be attended to."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed," Kisaragi agreed with the Vandal, seemingly stepping out from the air. Mishalea made herself a mental note. One of these days she really would need to learn just how the spy did that.

Kisaragi smirked insolently at her for a moment before asking politely, "You called?"

"Yes. I have some questions."

The other woman laughed. "Of course. But I," she paused, as if for dramatic effect, "have a proposal to make."

Mishalea glanced at her sharply. As she turned to Rilix, the Vandal raised a querying eye-brow. Mishalea turned back, and rather than saying anything, fixed her gaze on the other woman. Kisaragi responded quickly.

"It has recently come to our attention of many benefits that could be derived of a more solidly… cemented alliance. My mistress wants me to treat with you."

Mishalea was taken off-guard. Certainly she had known that Kisaragi had to have had connections of some kind, but this was a surprise. Such an offer could be weighed, examined and, to an extent, trusted. She said cautiously, "There are… certain complications. The others are moving quickly. And there's this war-leader."

Kisaragi gave her one of those bright smiles that came so naturally to her features. "That would be one of the afore-mentioned benefits."

Mishalea wasn't sure about this, but the offer seemed genuine. She gestured courteously to a chair, "Please, be seated. And pray, continue."

---

Cameela smashed in the face of the second assassin with her chain and ball. A clumsy death, she noted with distaste, but she had taken the opening rather than wait for another one. Unfortunately she was in no condition to be fighting the assassins. And they were good.

Ignoring the first one she turned to fight the imaginary others that she assumed were there; and they were. Five more. The chain and ball was a weapon that was meant for its reach, these men had gotten in close. Seeing another opening she took a swing at one of the attacker's, this one was clumsier than the rest. The blow was delivered as strongly as she dared and his legs separated from his body at impact. The man fell down screaming in a panic. He wasn't dead yet, but he soon would be.

A blade bit into her shoulder. She started to swing about, but saw another man charging at her. She pulled back using the slight movement as momentum for the chain, it whistled backwards at a ferocious rate slamming straight into the charging man's gut. She lightly whipped the weapon back in the other direction and felt it hit the man who had stabbed her shoulder. The impact was less than she had expected though. Her eyes moved in surprise and found the man cradling his right arm. She had hurt it badly, but he was left-handed.

The faint sound of steel whistling through the air saved her life. She ducked down low, just beneath the would-be killing stroke of one of the other men. Cameela lashed out, shattering the kneecap just in front of her. As the man fell, screaming, he still managed a thrust that grazed her side as she stood upright.

Another dark shape cannoned into her; it was the last of the three living assassins. This one wielded two blades, one in both hands. He sent a sweeping cut around to her right and a vicious downward slice at her left. Ironically it was the man she had just wounded who saved her life. He seized on her leg from behind, pulling her just off-balance enough to be out of range of the two cuts aimed at her. The one bit into her left arm anyway, the other striking true and deep across her right palm. She kicked back with her foot and felt the arm clutching her calf go limp.

Nimbly she jumped backwards even as the man with two swords lunged at her. Taking advantage of his moment of surprise she lashed out yet again, this time into the sword that he was sticking straight out. It fell, torn out of his grasp, and impaled the unconscious man on the ground. The other man gave a feral growl and started to charge at her. She was prepared, but the last man, the one with the now bad arm, also came out, his sword gashing into her left thigh.

With a cry of pain she turned the ball aside so that it struck the side of his head. The man dropped like a stone. She turned now to fight the last man who now wielded only one sword. He was both angry and impatient, she realized. So, she fought a little more clumsily than usual letting him over-commit on a thrust. She stunned him with one blow to the face and killed him with the second.

Just as she wearily raised her foot, a figure slammed into her back knocking her into the dirt. It was the first assassin.

_By the gods, he's still alive! Damn him!_

She wrestled feebly against him, but even with his bad arm it was little good. His blade was scraping uncomfortably close to her throat. Fueled by a sudden determination Cameela tried to grasp at the blade. The man turned it in so that it was cutting deep into her hand. But he was growing weaker. With one final, wrenching yank, she seized the hilt and turned it so that as he came down on her he came down on knife-point.

Weakly she stumbled to her feet and surveyed the carnage. Six men, brutally slain. But who had sent them? Was there a second wave coming? She hoped not. She could barely stand let alone fight a few more assassins. The perimeter. She had to reach the perimeter. She staggered forward, maybe a dozen paces before collapsing.

---

Alain stood on the walls of Rindo, his shoulders tight. Hans walked over to him and said comfortingly, "The waiting is hardest. Once they come though…"

The young centaur slowly turned his head about and gazed steadily at Hans. Finally he said, "As you say my lord. The town is taken. Zocc will retreat eventually."

The two stood there, waiting together in silence for what seemed to be the longest time. Hans's throat was dry. He wanted so much to have something to say to Alain, but he could come up with nothing. Once, he stared to say, "Your father…"

"What of him?"

"… Nothing."

It was then that he realized the truth.

_I am looking at me_, he thought with sorrow.

Alain was everything that Hans had been at his age. Eager, gallant, yet arrogant and vain as well. Everything that he had been until he'd seen what the world was. Until he had been pushed to the side. The thought was uncomfortable.

_I am taking it too hard, as Jarl said. Luke is my friend._

Just as he opened his mouth again a cry came, "My lords!"

Hans turned about, in surprise. It was the mage, Felic Ugan. So far, he hadn't had much contact with young Ugan. It wasn't so much that he disliked the mage just that Felic made him uncomfortable, the same way that Lord Otrant had made him uncomfortable.

Felic bowed his head quickly and said, "The enemy has been spotted."

It seemed to Hans that almost as soon as he had said that, battle began. He dashed about the length of the walls firing arrows and slashing at ropes as the soldiers tried their hardest to get back into Rindo. Felic Ugan as well seemed to be everywhere loosing destructive bolts of power and commanding his mages.

It was then that Hans noticed Alain striding off towards a stair descending the wall. Hans ran and as he came up on the centaur he burst out, "What are you doing?"

Alain looked up. "The only thing I can. I'm leading a charge."

The words came out in a flood from Hans, "Alain no!" The centaur started to move and Hans seized his arm. "Listen to me; out there you will do no good. Your fifty will be slaughtered by those, in vengeance. Those men are losing, and they know it. They will relish slaughtering anyone they can get their hands on!"

The centaur said angrily, "_I have no choice!_ I cannot do my duty up here. My father-"

Hans cut in, "Yes, your father! Your father will never forgive me if I let you get killed. So if you won't do it for your own sake, at least do it for his! Or even for me!" Alain paused for a moment peering at Hans. The archer knew, however, that Alain's resistance had broken and he led the centaur back along the wall. "You don't understand," he told Alain quietly, "but your father means very much to me."

---

Chu Rao smiled as he gave the order to attack. The ploy had worked. Before Kisaragi had left, the two of them had perfected the plan. The Shining Force would have one slight advantage; even after committing to the bait they still had an escape route open. Realizing this, the two of them had decided not to divert soldiers trying to cut the said escape route off. The Shining Force would still be able to force their way out.

But, when fully committed to a frontal assault and coming under heavy attack from both sides… He had only spoken to Kisaragi once since that day, and that was just to verify that she had the troops. They had also known that they couldn't risk contacting each other; not with the plan at stake.

And so, Chu Rao confidently gave the order. His forces would commit themselves. Standing well towards the back of the army, he watched as the battle began. The losses would be heavy, at first, but he knew that as long as he waited for a few minutes Kisaragi's troops would come in and slaughter the Shining Force. They just had to be certain of the commitment.

His smile withered slightly; the casualties were already a little higher than he had hoped but it was only, he reminded himself, the first charge. His sharp eyes noted that there were quite a few absent from the Shining Force's attacking party…

But then again, Max would want his camp to be well defended. He glanced impatiently at the ridges on either side of the ravine.

_Hurry, damn you. Max has commited. _

He turned his gaze back to the battle for a moment. Chaos was reining. Max was making good use of his men. Chu Rao's attention was then riveted by the screams. His head turned towards the right ridge, as he smiled. But only for a moment.

He sputtered in shock as he saw that instead of Kisaragi's troops boldly charging down the Shining Force it was two platoons that served Max attacking his own men… Horrified he quickly put the information together. His own troops were already committed to battle and being slaughtered left and right. But why hadn't he heard the sounds of fighting as Max's platoons took the ridges?

_No_, he realized. _Kisaragi, you evil bitch! You've betrayed me!_

An icy cold hatred filled his veins. He should have known… she had lured him to his doom, promising aid. Quickly he started adjusting his plans to the shock. He did still have the advantage of numbers on his side. If he could divert his archers to attack the ridges he might be able to gain the upper hand.

That was when the aerial assault began. Waves of ice poured over his troops even as birdmen darted in for quick kills and a dragon flew above them all.

Fuming angrily Chu Rao changed his plans again. Mayhaps numbers would be enough to win this battle. Mayhaps they wouldn't. He didn't intend to stay and find out. Dava would have his head for failure _unless_ he could bring her something of greater value.

Chu Rao smiled again. He would gift her with Ruburan's head. Dava would be most pleased to know that her old acquaintance was quite dead. So pleased that she might even reward Chu Rao. He would demand Kisaragi as his price. He would kill her for her treachery… after he had his way with her.

Chu Rao took off at a running dash. He needed to get to the point where he could clamber up onto the ridge and escape. That was at the other end of the ravine. And the escape was at the opposite end of that. And he would find the ninja on the way there.

He charged past his own soldiers, who were bolstered at the sight of him and fought on harder still. As he moved a young woman jumped out at him. She was wearing a sort of grey dress and wielding a staff which struck thrice in quick succession. Growling with rage, he slammed his meaty fist into her gut. She doubled over and Chu Rao continued his eyes still scanning for a glimpse of Ruburan. That was when he heard the yell.

"You!"

He turned in the direction of the sound just in time to see a sword thrust aimed at him. He barely moved to the side, jolted by the sight of his foe. He had been there when Dava had killed King Nicholas of Cypress. There was no mistaking his opponent. The prince was the very image of his father.

Chu Rao had a trump card though. He jumped backwards and seized the fallen woman's hair. He shouted viciously, "Come a step closer and I'll kill her!"

Nick stopped abruptly. He said, very softly, "Mayfair." The prince shook his head with resignation and jumped at Chu Rao. The fat man was so startled by the irrational attack that the woman, Mayfair, slid from his grasp. Chu Rao took off at a dead run, Nick pursuing him closely.

At that moment Chu Rao realized the truth; he couldn't just keep running, Nick would manage to kill him if he tried that. And so, the warlord took his gamble. He executed a flying leap and landed, awkwardly, on the slope of the area moving upward to the ridge. Miraculously, there was no enemy before him.

That was when the dead weight dropped itself on his back. Gasping in a panic, Chu Rao flailed wildly. He heard the Cyprian prince growl, "I'm going to kill you, you slime."

Chu Rao twisted desperately about, scrabbling against the steep incline, but the prince was proving difficult to dislodge, clinging like a limpet to his back. With all the strength he could muster, Chu Rao slammed himself up to his feet. Nick fell back with a grunt.

Chu Rao managed to get to the top, when Nick slammed hard into his back again. Chu Rao fell forward, his face smashed into the leaves amidst the ground. His wildly flailing hand scored a hit on Nick's face. The fat man managed to get up again, and saw that he had delivered a glancing blow to Nick's left eye.

With a bellow of anger the prince unsheathed his blade and sent it swinging at Chu Rao's belly. The warlord jumped up, barely dodging the sweeping cut. He worked backwards as best he could, but Nick was following and calling on all his skill with a blade.

Chu Rao was starting to pant pitifully but he could see that Nick was tiring as well. And that was his only chance. Nick suddenly gave a sharp bark of anger and threw his weight forward along with his arm in a direct thrust. Chu Rao stepped back, and lost his balance.

Reflexively he looked behind him; they'd dueled to the very end of the ravine where the rock abruptly stopped in a menacing display of sharp and deadly fragments. Not quite stalagmites, but close enough. And deadly too. As Chu Rao's eyes darted forward he lurched back onto solid ground even as he saw the blade coming at him. This time the warlord's hand shot out, clapping itself over Nick's wrist.

The two of them stood there for what seemed to be an eternity, trying to wrestle control of the blade away from the other. Finally Chu Rao brought his knee up into Nick's groin and seized the blade. The prince doubled over in pain.

Chu Rao laughed and flourished the sword wildly as he cried, "Thus you die with the knowledge that the fury is to me!"

Just as the warlord was about to bring the sword down to behead the Cyprian scum, Prince Nicholas straightened up. Chu Rao started to adjust the sword's direction, but it was too late. With a look of pure hatred the prince slammed his fist hard into Chu Rao's face.

The fat man felt his nose break and a tooth crack. He felt his face bruise and the sword dropped from his grasp as he took a stumbling step backwards. And in a moment he was falling.

Chu Rao shook his head dazedly. Was he falling, or was he dreaming? He must be dreaming, he decided. Chu Rao's last thought was of Kisaragi's breasts.

---

Hans was not certain as to when the battle had ended. At one moment, the fighting had been at its thickest, and at the next the enemy, those who were still alive anyway, were bending the knee.

Alain stood in the same spot as he had earlier, his cloak swirling in the breeze. Hans stayed away. Alain would not want to see him now; Hans wasn't sure that he wanted to see Alain either.

Slowly he made his way down the stair to open a gate and receive word on how bloody a victory it had been.

As he reached the bottom he noticed Felic Ugan, apparently tending some of the wounded. He asked, "How many did you lose?"

The mage looked up in surprise. "None. Three wounded, but that's all."

Hans gave a tired nod and committed the figure to memory. Alain's fifty had not fared as well. Slowly he made his way to the main gate. And finally he opened it.

His attention sharpened as he saw Luke, Torl, and Jarl all there. He quickly gave his report, "Three mages wounded, our swords have been cut down to twenty-seven and ten of those are wounded, lightly and heavily both."

Hans realized that something was wrong. The three men were hesitating. "What?" he asked. "What is it? What happened?"

Torl's shoulders hunched up as he said, "The victory was… was as bloodless as could be expected, but…" The man ground his teeth.

"What?"

Luke, looking rather grey-faced, said, "Zocc fled the battle with some few others. He's got Torasu."

---

Domingo floated about camp abjectly. The battle had been a great success, greater than even Max had hoped. The wounds that they had taken had been light because the trap had worked perfectly. And the enemy had been demoralized after seeing Prince Nicholas slay their leader.

He should, he knew, be celebratory, but he couldn't manage it. Under normal circumstances he might have been but what was normal anymore? Was this constant depressed loneliness normal for him?

Once he knew that he would have answered no. But he wasn't certain anymore. Was his old self, witty, joking, and bright, had that just been his attempt to deny the truth that was attempting to overwhelm his soul?

Max and some of the others would be conferring at the moment, deciding exactly what to do, what the repercussions had been of the battle and what the success truly merited. Domingo wouldn't be joining them though, because Anri would be there.

He no longer knew what kept him from fading away into a melancholy disinterest in the world. Max, he had told himself that it had to be Max. Max who knew of the betrayal and deception that still inspired rage within him. But then, he had ceased to care about that too.

With a sudden start of surprise, Domingo realized he wasn't the only one out under the stars this night. Gort was sitting on a log looking out over the lake. Domingo floated over and started to ask, "Why aren't you with the others?" before he knew the answer himself.

Gort was truly and sincerely drunk. The old dwarven warrior turned about and offered Domingo a tankard of ale. The jellyfish had never been much of one for drinking, but he abruptly decided that anything would be better than the hole inside him.

So he sipped at the rough, fiery liquid. Gort spoke then, his voice thick with ale. "Ah remember. Didn't wantae. Boot, t' slaughter tooday… Noone o' 'em unnerstands."

Domingo asked the obvious question, "What?"

The old warrior stared off into the distance, clearly reminiscing. "T' deceit… still makes me fell… soiled. Bastard…" Suddenly the dwarf was on his feet and he sobbed shakily, "_Ah trusted hem!_ Ah was loyal… Ah believed… Ah fought for hem. Killed for hem. Ahnd he took me wife."

The silence was deafening. Domingo didn't know what to say though. He didn't think that there was truly anything to say.

Gort turned to him, tears in his eyes. "Ah killed 'em all. Not juust hem. All o' them! Ahn for whit? Ah killed him too, boot, Ah killed the rest. Whit does thaht make me?"

Domingo didn't know. He didn't know anything. The old warrior suddenly lurched at him and seized him. The magical creature was startled to see fear in Gort's eyes. Fear, and anger too. The dwarf whispered, "You ever tell _any_ o' 'em, any 'tall, ahnd Ah'll kill yeh."

Domingo just nodded rather than promising. It would not be enough. Nothing was ever enough.

---

Earnest dodged another sword thrust before slamming the point of his lance into his opponent's gut. It was futile. They already had Kokichi and Vankar. Soon they would have him as well.

Calmly, he swerved the tip of his lance around another questing sword-point and punctured the man's chest. It had been so pointless. He had realized that guile wouldn't serve him. The mage who led these troops wasn't moving out of Rudo, so guerrilla tactics were not an option. He had taken the only possible choice he could think of. He had ordered an attack.

_For the children. _

He jumped backwards, dodging a sweeping cut that was sent at him and thrust his lance straight out to give him distance. That was his mistake. His opponent smashed the lance with one hard blow and in a moment they were on him, striking out with spear-butts till he was on his knees, bound.

Kokichi's features were a red ruin, but somehow he still managed to grin, "_Hehehe_! I say, you lads, _heh_." He directed his words at the soldiers, "There once, _heh_, was a wench tending to some goats! 'Till she met you lot, _heh_, on some boats! It was a ring-a-ling-ling, a sadness I sing, but you were all deprived of your stem and your moat!"

His only response was a kick in the ribs. Kokichi gasped in pain, hawking up a glob of blood. Vankar was still unconscious. He had charged drunkenly into the fight, berserk almost. But he had gone down quickly.

Then the mage appeared. He walked along, his purple robes shifting all about and his glowing eyes transfixing Earnest's gaze. The mage bent down and whispered, "How I would love to slay such an infidel here…"

He straightened up and ordered, "However, my orders are quite explicit. Bring the brats!" A moment later two soldiers came out roughly carrying Karin and Krin. The mage smiled evilly, "It is true that I cannot slay these others as I wish… but their pretensions must be punished. Oh, holy lord of darkness, I invoke thy power!"

A glowing orb of pure dark energy came to life on the mage's palm. He loosed it into Karin. The little girl didn't even cry out; she just died. Her sister sat there numbly saying nothing.

The mage turned back to Earnest. "Thus you witness the power of the holy darkness. The darkness which is more than the light! Darkness…" He started twitching, and then seemed to regain control of himself. "Be that as it may. You are now prisoners under the jurisdiction of Supreme General Slit, by the order of General Kre'sar!"


	27. Chapter 27: Fire in the Soul

Chapter 27:

Fire in the Soul

Dava's step was strong and proud. She had wanted to see Cypress Castle for a very long time. To be sure, that had never been possible. Until recently. And to think that it was Warderer's own power that had somehow changed the way Sanctuary worked. He hadn't entirely destroyed it, but the spell was in some way mitigated. Dava's own curiosity in this was more than intellectual; it would be useful to know.

For the moment, however, this was unimportant. She would need to focus all of her cunning on the task ahead of her. The fact that Sanctuary functioned at all meant that if she tried to use force, it might well be roused to destroy her. She would not wake Sanctuary.

`Dava paused in front of the great carven doors for a moment. She knew what she had to do, the prospect excited her. It had been a long time since she had been able to take advantage of chaos. Far from being dismayed by it, she found it exhilarating.

The one thing that caused her to hesitate was Chu Rao. The fool had lost much of her strength. She had known when he had died, and she had not resented it. The world existed so that the strong would emerge victorious. The fact that Chu Rao had ultimately proven to be weak was at worst a minor disappointment. But it mattered little. Even with the main strength that he lost she commanded an army of twelve-thousand men. She could, if necessary, call on a reserve five-thousand. And that was in addition to her power.

Nodding her head, as if in reassurance, she stepped forward abruptly and opened the doors. Dava stepped boldly into the throne room of Castle Cypress and studied the man sitting on the throne.

He was tall and slim with long auburn hair that hung past his shoulders and shrewd, pale, calculating blue eyes. His garb was that of a warrior as was his body. This was the man who had taken Cypress. This was Uglu.

Kneeling at the foot of the throne was another man that Dava didn't recognize, an older man of elegant, if unremarkable appearance. His gray hair was neatly cropped and his face was that of an aristocrat. Uglu, who had been in the middle of speaking broke off.

He said heatedly, "_Hellsteeth_! When I want a maid I'll call for one. Begone." The command was delivered with nothing more than a flick of his fingers. This was, obviously, a powerful man. Dava hadn't felt that much compulsion for a long time.

Her own reply was carefully neutral, "I am no maid Your Grace."

He snorted. "You show all the sense of one. I am not a king."

Dava, ignoring that, leant forward, "I've come to offer you my aid Your Grace. They call me Dava." She cocked her head on one side. "What do they call you?"

The man chuckled, but his eyes remained hard as stone. "You know who I am. Enough of this farce. Go. Now. And I will overlook this incident."

Dava's voice cracked, "Listen to the little lordling issuing commands! You think that _you _are powerful, you fool? You took the castle cleverly enough, aye, but like the incompetent oaf that you are you allowed King Nicholas and dozens of others to escape." Uglu's jaw set itself. Dava ignored that and continued, "I warn you, you're only still alive because I cleaned up your mess for you as best I could. I killed King Nicholas."

The notion seemed to amuse him. "You? Perhaps I will not kill you as I planned but keep you as a fool. You paint a very droll image old woman."

Dava's eyes narrowed. "You had best be careful in what you say. To turn away the aid of a spiriter is one thing, to insult one is something quite different."

The slightest hint of a smile brushed his lips. "The spiriters have all died out. You might have chosen a more convincing lie."

Dava had known that this moment was coming and did not let up. Holding up her hand she released her mind and channeled the energy. A great vortex suddenly opened in the middle of the room, a doorway to the spirit realm.

Uglu leapt to his feet, his hand reaching for his sword. Dava smiled thinly, "You would be wise to reconsider your manners, Uglu. I killed King Nicholas after all. Henceforth you will be treating me with more respect."

Uglu gave the slightest of nods sinking back down into the throne easily enough. Dava clasped her hand into a fist and the vortex vanished.

Uglu inclined his head and said, "Perhaps I was hasty in my actions, my lady." Dava studied him intently. There _was_ wariness in his eyes, but she wasn't certain if it was tinged with respect or pride.

She said sweetly, "I would hate to believe I had interrupted you in something. Pray continue. We are in no hurry."

Uglu's jaw clenched ever so slightly. Doubtless he was insulted by being given orders under his own roof. But he could handle a little rudeness.

Uglu turned his attention back to the other man and then to a piece of paper. "Those five?"

The grey-haired man replied, "Indeed. They are of a like mind with me."

"The others?"

"Perhaps less… overjoyed to be offering you their feal service, but also of like mind."

"I see." Uglu unsheathed his blade. "Swear the words."

The man smiled modestly. "There is one little… difficulty." Uglu leaned in close and the man said quickly, "A lord cannot rule other lords my lord. You have no claim."

Uglu snorted. "Oh yes. What is that peculiar title that you Cyprian's keep?"

"You mean the Wardens my lord?"

Uglu smiled thinly. "Yes." He stood and touched the steel to the man's shoulder his voice firm. "In the name of his Holiness, Iom, by word of Iom's blessed, King Warderer, I, Lord Uglu, sit as His Holiness's extension into the Crown of Cypress by right of the laws of conquest; I do so claim the throne in the name of King Warderer and of Iom as Lord Uglu, Warden of the Cyprian Throne." He turned his cool gaze to Dava for a moment before addressing the kneeling man again. "Now swear me your feal service."

"Of course, my dear Lord Warden."

The man swore himself to Uglu's service and then turned to face her. It was then that she finally had a flash of recognition. She asked, "You are Lord Vensic, are you not? King Nicholas's Warden of the Eastern Isles and Master of the Citadel?"

"I was," he agreed with a smile. "I also held those honors under King Edmond, Lady Dava."

Dava snorted derisively. Nicholas might have been her enemy, but he had been a strong man and a true king. The same could never be said of his brother. She addressed Uglu, "Rather than spending two days dancing around I shall-"

"Yes, yes, what do you want?"

"As I said before, to aid you Your Grace."

Uglu's jaw clenched. "I am not a king. Warderer is the only king of Iom."

"Warderer," she said softly, "will not live forever."

"Hold your tongue. My king has my loyalty. You say that you are a spiriter and have given me reason to suspect that this is true. You say that you slew King Nicholas and have given me reason to believe you. But you have not proved that you are worth anything, old woman."

With difficulty, she restrained her rising temper as she replied, "My talents are at your disposal, Lord Uglu. I have already committed some of my forces to demonstrate a… small act of faith."

"This being?"

"You will soon hold one of the most powerful lords of the Freedom Fighters."

Uglu clenched his jaw again. "Very well. I can believe that. You get nothing until I see that this is a true gift. However, I will hear you. Name your price."

Dava smiled, "Oh, you'll find it modest enough I assure you. As your ally I will be privy to certain information of yours so there is no need to ask for that. No, I only want one thing from you, but it's not negotiable."

His teeth ground this time. "And what is this small price? Land? Wealth? An execution? Boys? Or girls if you prefer?"

"I want Warderer's head."

---

Musashi drank the ale, though unhappily Ridion was careful to note. He asked in a tone of false concern, "Be there somethin' troublin' you, samurai?"

Musashi sighed. "No. Well. Nothing of consequence."

Ridion burst out laughing refilling the samurai's cup as he did so. "The sorrows o' me friends are always o' consequence, d'you hear?"

"No. I assure you that there is no difficulty."

Ridion switched tack, "Ah, but there must be wit' the face yer makin'. We won a great victory, you should be celebratin'."

Musashi sighed again. "Valor in battle is… commendable. But all the slaughter that has occurred recently. I merely wish for a better way."

"Ah," said Ridion. "Well, that be a very troublin' thought. All o' the slaughter I mean. And yet, what other way be open to us? Way I see it, Lord Max 'asn't given us a choice now, 'as 'e?"

Musashi finished his cup and replied with some heat, "Lord Max knows what he's doing."

Ridion was careful to re-fill the cup as he spoke. "Ah well. It's just that, as you say, might be a better way. I meant no disrespect."

Musashi said nothing. Ridion, sensing that now was the moment to press his attack, said baldly, "Truth o' the matter is that war's a problem. Lord Max now… he makes the hard decisions, true enough, but all the same he don't properly understand what it means." He paused for a moment, attempting to gauge the samurai's reaction. He wasn't sure, however, so he continued, "Nobody wants war amongst us matey. We o' the common folk, well we understand well enough. Go off and die. Supplies are bad all around, there's precious little food… it's… it's all this pain and this suffering, that's what it is. War's never honest, it don't speak from the heart. Never good."

`Musashi sat for a moment and then asked, "What do you suggest? Lord Max is a fine leader. The choices may not be nice, but they have to be made. War is the lesser of two evils."

"Sure, enough, sure enough!" cried Ridion. "You just 'ave to keep in mind matey that Lord Max… well, there. We've both said it now. Lord Max is a lord, y'know? And them lords see things differently from the common man. Playin' their games and such. Mind you," he added hastily, "I'm not sayin' anything against Lord Max. He's fine as y'say. But, he is a lord. And lords gotta do their lordy things in order to get where they're going. That's what makes 'em different, y'see?"

Musashi's voice was very soft. "Be quiet. I will not listen to you detracting Lord Max."

Ridion poured him another cup. "Hold hard there! Didn't mean anything by it."

Musashi asked sarcastically, "Disloyalty doesn't mean anything?"

Ridion looked up feigning offense, "Watch 'o yer callin' disloyal, mate! 'Tain't disloyalty 'tall. Where I come from, 'tis considered loyal to speak up when you think there's a better way. Or, if that's not an option, to follow yer 'eart."

Musashi did not reply. He sat there and finally drank his cup, but that was all the answer that Ridion needed.

_That's one_, he thought with satisfaction.

---

Her eyes opened slowly. Everything hurt. A smooth voice said, as if from a great distance, "You are very lucky."

She thrashed forward in a blind panic. She _knew_ that voice, but it couldn't be… At last she realized that she was in a bed. Tangled in some sheets. It took a little more thrashing but she finally managed to get upright.

Cameela sputtered, "Odd-Eye?"

He inclined his head slightly. "Yes."

"Wha… What?" How had this happened? The last thing she remembered was the assassins… "Assassins!"

Odd-Eye's mouth quirked. "Indeed."

Belatedly Cameela cursed herself. Here she was rambling, when there was information to be found out. The fact that she was alive rendered the dead assassins momentarily meaningless. She would have to give Odd-Eye something; that was doubtless why he saved her. And as for whoever arranged the little debacle with the assassins… well Cameela had in mind a different sort of thanks for them.

She noted a goblet of wine on a table by the bed. She picked it up and sniffed it cautiously. Spiced, mulled wine. She took a sip and then asked, "Where have you been?"

Odd-Eye's face was the picture of confusion. "Been? I'm afraid that I don't-"

"You've been missing and you damn well know it. King Zeon is in a towering rage about it. Where've you been to have found me so conveniently?" She wondered if he had arranged the assassins? If so, after finding that they failed, 'saving' her would be a very convenient cover.

He countered with a question of his own, "Where were you going?"

Cameela paused for a moment and decided that she'd get her answers faster if she gave him his. "To secure a perimeter. Mishalea ordered it but… it was Geshp's idea. I think he's finally betrayed us."

"That," remarked Odd-Eye offhandedly, "is a purely academic conclusion. I could have told you as much centuries ago."

Cameela rolled her eyes. She had forgotten how annoyingly superior he could be. Before she could reiterate her question he asked, "What's happened in my absence?"

Cameela told all she knew as truthfully as she could. "Warderer and Mishalea quarreled, but neither one has broken. Yet. As for the rest… Geshp…" She upright. "_Of course!_ You wouldn't have heard. Geshp killed Zalbard."

The hint of a smile hovered on Odd-Eye's lips. "What treacherous times we live in," he intoned solemnly.

"But," Cameela demanded, "Where have _you_ been?"

He sat silently for many moments and finally said, "I was attempting to gather proofs of Geshp's treacheries. My efforts were not very fruitful. I'll make my apologies to King Zeon."

Cameela snapped, "Wait!" As he turned back to her she said, "You'll have to come up with some other reason. That won't do. King Zeon won't accept it."

Odd-Eye laughed aloud. "My dear general, King Zeon trusts me implicitly."

"That didn't stop him from rescinding rank on all of us! The way things are going now, King Zeon doesn't trust any of us. If we're to expose Geshp then we'll need solid proof. As you don't have any-"

He held up a forestalling hand. "Very well. That option is no longer an option. What would you suggest?"

"Well," Cameela mused aloud, "perhaps you could tell King Zeon that you've been trying to spy on the Shining Force?"

Odd-Eye sat there silently for several moments and then he said, "There is one small… difficulty in that. I should need a good reason for failure, or some information to pass along. As it is, I have neither. No, I need something that I can act upon, credibly."

Cameela snorted. That was when she remembered, "Warderer!"

"Warderer? May I enquire as to what the deuce you are suggesting?"

She smiled in triumph. This interview was worth it if only to hear him slightly puzzled. She explained, "Warderer claimed that you sought his support against Mishalea. It was one of many allegations and barbs he laid. You would obviously know whether or not it's true, but I think he was just trying to goad Mishalea into an attack."

"You would be right. This doesn't, however, change anything. I can't claim-"

She cut him off. "Yes you can. This is different. If you go to King Zeon and tell him you've been working on Warderer, trying to draw him out, then you have a reason that he'll find acceptable if not pleasing. The fact that you've failed so far won't seem strange to him, Warderer is intelligent and a leader. It fits."

Odd-Eye sat silently for quite a while. Just as she was about to ask again, he nodded reluctantly, "As you say."

Cameela smirked. She had never thought to find Odd-Eye a particularly useful ally, but with Geshp's ambitions growing out of control… She asked, "Could you tell anything from the remains of the assassins?"

Odd-Eye shrugged. "It's difficult to say, but I'm fairly certain that they were Mishalea's men."

"Mishalea? That doesn't make any sense. She sent me out to the damn perimeter in the first place."

"A convenient cover."

"I don't think so. It's not her style. And even when Mishalea does make a mistake, it's an oversight, not an overstep."

Odd-Eye's mouth quirked. "True enough. We must, then, assume that there is some faction in Mishalea's ranks that doesn't like you."

Cameela hesitated. It didn't seem that she would find anything just talking with Odd-Eye. And besides, she had already told him far too much. Far too much.

She said sternly, "We should probably be making our plans now. And hammering out the terms of our friendship."

The rest was only haggling.

---

Tao's head ached abominably. The tent was hot and stuffy and nothing was more tedious than listening to Nick, Deanna, and Lowe wrangling over the 'new circumstances of our forces' as Ian put it.

She hadn't really wanted to come to this meeting, but in the end, the lure of Max being there had been too great to resist. Attempting to pay more attention, she studied the faces before her.

Mae was there, but then again Mae was always there. And always with that same gloomy expression on her face. Lowe was also there as he usually was. The victory had left him bombastic. Eager. And so he argued heatedly with Prince Nicholas. Still genial as was his custom, but heated.

There were so many new faces to replace some of the old though. Gort wasn't there which was rather odd. The old dwarf was one of the primary players in the council, Max relied on him. Luke would have been there too, but he was off gallivanting towards Alterone… probably dead. Jogurt also used to sit in on the council, all the time. But he had died too. Most of the others had filtered in and out, Domingo perhaps being more frequent than most. But Tao didn't want to think of Domingo.

Hanzou was there as well, sitting back in the shadowed corner, studying the people intently. Their eyes met for a moment and it was like an electric shock. Tao felt as though Hanzou had just gazed straight through her.

Desperately she turned her eyes away and they fell on Anri. That cut too deep. She would, she decided, have to study the new faces, not the old.

Prince Nicholas had, of course, immediately installed himself into these meetings upon his arrival. He brought Ruce with him at all times to generally back him up. Deanna was always there as well; almost unwillingly it seemed to Tao. There was something in the timbre of his voice, the way he moved… some quality that he possessed that allowed him to display many emotions all the while being quiet and contained.

Where Deanna came, his pet mage was never far behind. Tao had spoken to Natasha once or twice, but she couldn't profess any warmth for the girl. The plain-looking mage stood behind Deanna's chair saying nothing. She didn't need to. She was just there.

And Max had, of course, instated Ian as a full member of the council. His man, Ruburan was there given his seeming connection with Chu Rao. Prince Nicholas asked, "What is the nature of this relationship between you and the spiriter Dava?"

Ruburan's voice was soft. "My own. It was my own relationship and I do not wish to speak of it. Chu Rao is dead."

Nick opened his mouth, but Deanna spoke then, on a completely different tack, "Who died?"

Ruburan stiffened. "She was my only kin…"

Nick turned away in disgust. "Leave him. He won't speak. Now, as for the next move… if you are unwilling to strike here and now, then we must strike back in Cypress."

`"No." It was a single word, but when Deanna said it, there was some kind of compulsion in it.

Nick hissed, "We've gotten as far as we have because they're off-balanced. We're a small group-"

"Precisely." Deanna arched a brow at him. "If we move now then we will be overwhelmed. We lack the strength to assault their forces. They do not have the same inhibition. If we strike now, then we are finished. Attacking Chu Rao was only justified by the huge gain that was offered by victory. And the fact that he was under a severe tactical disadvantage. That was not a rash strike. What you propose, is."

Nick sat there silently for a moment and then managed, "And what happens when we are stormed, my lord? As long as they are unsure as to what we can do, we have a chance. As soon as they decide to send in all of their strength to-"

At that point Ken poked his head into the tent and said loudly, "A messenger from Lord Ward." The messenger stumbled in, a thin, nervous looking man. He bowed deeply.

"My lords, oh!" He turned to Anri blushing furiously and added a belated, "Your Grace. Lord Ward Regent of Guardiana sends his compliments along with tidings of a great victory. Lord Ward bids me tell you, that Alterone has been reclaimed. The credit lies with General Torl for coming up with a clever plan, but with Sir Luke acting as a go-between, Lord Ward marshaled the forces of Lord Commander Jarl and had them march to implement the second phase of this plan. It was the army of Guardiana that acted as the decisive factor in this victory. Furthermore, Lord Ward suggested that Sir Luke continue his journey to liberate the Manarina Region, allowing him to build a coordinated force of the army of Guardiana and Alterone."

Max smiled, really smiled, for the first time in weeks. "That is excellent my friend. Ken, please take our guest to a tent, offer him any refreshment he requires. And you," he continued, turning back to the messenger, "can take this message back to Lord Ward. The compliments of Lord Max for his splendid victory in Rune, and the gratitude of Her Grace, Queen Anri, for proving that her faith in Lord Ward was not misguided. Her Grace is pleased to know that Lord Ward has truly served the kingdom, as he has always said, knowing that it is such service that is a true reward."

The messenger stammered thanks and Ken firmly guided him out. Lowe burst into laughter, "I wouldn't be surprised if old Ward collapses and starts chewing on the carpet after getting that message."

Max shrugged. "He shouldn't say that service is its own reward if that's not what he believes."

Ian finally spoke up asking, "I know that this is a wonderful piece of news, but I ask you to consider this. What of the several hundred soldiers of Chu Rao that escaped?"

Nick made a dismissive gesture. "Leave them. Even if they do rejoin a hostile group, a few hundred won't make a difference."

Deanna snapped, "The people will not love us for setting brutal bandits upon them."

"_Love_? You think that this is about love?"

"No." Just from the way that Deanna said it, one could tell it was not in answer to Nick's question, but in answer to his unspoken proposal. Deanna glared straight into Prince Nicholas's eyes. The prince stared back, and the whole council waited to see who would break first.

"That one loved once, and greatly." Tao shot a startled look at Hanzou. The ninja seemed to be almost talking to himself. His eyes stopped on Deanna. "And that one is consumed with grief." Next they went to Max. "The burdens of rule will either break or scar him." And Mae. "And she will never live." Then those eyes looked straight at her. The faintest hint of a smile brushed Hanzou's lips as he murmured, "And you my dear, you have fire in the soul."

Feeling unsettled she turned back to Nick and Deanna. The silent struggle violently ended as Prince Nicholas suddenly lurched upright, his hands clenched into fists, the hint of a sob in the back of his voice. "Dammit it all, I don't want it anymore! For fifteen years I ran around doing Father's errands and it didn't earn me anything but the envy of my uncle. I fought for you! I came on my knees to you, to help you! I subordinated myself, to you! Now you want the only thing I have left! Dammit, I tell you I don't want it anymore, I'm sick of it all!" And he collapsed back in his chair, his face contorted with grief and fury.

There was great silence for a minute, and then Nick finally looked up. Tao could see his wits returning to him in his expression. His face calmed, his hands relaxed their grip, although he did immediately clench the side of the table and he looked hard at Deanna. His eyes narrowed. His voice, soft now, "And what is this constant dodging from you? What is it that you don't want me to know? _What is there to know_?"

"Enough." Max had finally spoken. He said quietly, "Deanna, out." The tall blue-cloaked man left almost immediately his pet mage trailing behind him. Nicholas put a hand on Ruce's shoulder and whispered something to him. The dwarf nodded and left. Max continued, "Hanzou you… Hanzou?" He was, she realized, offering Hanzou a choice. Hanzou's lined face smiled at Max as he shook his head. The ninja gave a short bow and left without a word.

Max glanced to his sides, left and right, "Mae, Ian you two stay and…" He turned his gaze on Anri. Tao could feel the tension in the air as the two of them looked at each other. Anri quickly gathered herself and ran out of the tent. Max looked incredibly weary as he turned to her, "Tao?"

He was offering her the same choice as he had Hanzou. She hesitated for a moment and said stupidly, "I…"

_I want Max. But I can never have him. I saw that. I know that now._

Without a thought for dignity she turned and left. Her head pounded as she stumbled towards her tent. That look that had passed between Anri and Max…

_He wants her, he wants her, he wants her… _

Pain burned within her. She would never have a chance. Anri and Max… Anri! That evil little slut! She had done this to Tao; she had reached inside of her and twisted her heart. She had lied.

Tao opened her tent flap and started to come inside, when she stopped dead. He was there, sitting on her bed completely naked.

He smiled, "Ah. Lady Tao." He got up and came over to her, gently pulling her inside the tent and offering her a goblet of wine. She tried hard to ignore the bit between his legs even as it stirred. "You cannot know," Paezorta said softly, "how beautiful you look, at this moment. At every moment." He gave her a simple chaste kiss.

Her head was spinning. How had he happened to her? She managed, "What? You…"

"I had to come. I had to know that you needed me the way I needed you! I could not sleep, your beauty tormented me! The knowledge that Lord Max cares not a fig for you drove me onward…"

"Max," she murmured.

He lay back on the bed and panted, "Please, Tao. Please!"

At this moment, she felt curiously calm.

_What matters it who I take into my bed? Max has spurned me, and Paezorta is fair enough to look upon, well-spoken. He cares for me more than Max does… and for peace. Max is hell-bent on this war._

Slowly her hands rose to the broach at her throat. She unclasped it and slipped out of her robes. And as she came down onto the bed and onto him she murmured, "Yes."

---

Hans stared at the corpses feeling sick. He asked numbly, "Zocc did all this?"

Jarl nodded solemnly. "Murder is disgusting enough, but to have stooped this low…"

They stood just outside the chapel of Shade Abby. Zocc, after seizing Torasu, had fled in the only direction that he could. North. And so they had run him to ground here. The only decent thing about the situation that Hans could see, was that the dozen or so men who had cut their way free with Zocc were all dead. Zocc had deployed them to try to confused the pursuit, and it had, long enough for him to reach the Abbey but Alain's remaining men had killed the rest of Zocc's.

Luke and Alain approached the two of them. Alain looked duly concerned, Luke furious. The dwarf made an abrupt gesture to Alef and the mage joined them.

A harsh voice rang out from the chapel, "Oh, please don't come any closer or I'll have to kill this old bugger!"

Hans arched a brow as he remarked to no one in particular, "That was the worst quip I have ever been forced to listen to."

Luke's face was drawn. He shouted, "Let us in! You've got the old man either way! Why strain your pretty voice negotiating through wood doors?"

The huge oaken doorway creaked as it opened slightly. After a moment Zocc's head poked out. He glared around generally, and then opened the door a bit more, holding Torasu close to him, a blade against the healer's throat. The door was just open enough so that Zocc took all the space in it.

The white-cloaked man cackled, "You're going to get me out of here, or your precious little healer goes straight to the darkness."

Torasu started, "I suggest that you don'-" when Zocc drew blood.

The healer gasped in pain as Zocc hissed, "Fuck that!" He looked up and addressed them all, "And fuck you too! I don't give a damn about any of this. Just get me out of here!"

Luke's own voice was level as he replied, "That won't work. Kill him and you lose your bargaining power. If you surrender yourself now, then you can be guaranteed a clean death."

"A clean death? Oh, that's rich! You're going to get me out of here!"

The two wrangled about it, Luke trying to coax him into coming closer. Hans slowly started to raise his already loaded bow. He only had one shot.

Luke was saying, "You're not getting anything if you just stand up there. In fact, you're not getting anything at all."

"But he's your friend!"

Luke's voice was stone. "I have friends."

Zocc sputtered at him his arm lowering slightly just as Hans loosed the arrow. It slammed into Zocc's arm. The white-cloaked man gave a bellow of pain as both the sword and Torasu fell from his grasp.

Luke shouted, "Now, hurry!"

Screaming with rage Zocc seized the fallen blade and threw himself onto Torasu even as Alef shrieked, "NO! Stay away from him."

Zocc rolled off, but blood covered Torasu's throat. As Zocc staggered to his feet, he screamed, "Bugger you all!" just before a tremendous bolt of lightning rose burning a chunk through his chest. And so Zocc fell, dead.

Alef scrambled forward to Torasu sobbing and crying out his name. Torasu's eyes clouded over as he started murmuring, "Failed. Failed my Lord Luke. Failed…"

It was too much. Hans turned away, and then felt a rough grasp on his arm. Luke spun him around and slapped his face. "What were you thinking?" he demanded.

Hans said tightly, "You might want to thank me for trying to save his life." He rubbed at the sting in his chest, staring balefully at his old friend.

"Thank you? And what if the arrow had hit Torasu? What if it had caused Zocc's blade hand to jerk upwards? Did you ever think of that? Maybe I should let our soldiers use you for archery practice!"

"That is ridiculous! So what is it now? Only the bold Sir Luke is allowed to have any victories? You are-"

"My lords," said Jarl quietly, "I beg you not to quarrel. Not here in front of the troops. You are both well-respected; it is bad for their morale."

Hans laughed at the injustice of it. "_Respect_? Who fucking respects me?" _This bloody bastard still blames me for Alterone and I'm dammed if the troops don't think so on account of that. _

Jarl said mildly, "Myself, for one."

Luke ground his teeth, "Hans I don't know what's wrong with you lately. But I'll let it be this time. We shouldn't be dishonoring the old man's death anyway. He served me well."

"Served you well? And you ask what's wrong with me? What happened to you Sir Luke? Or mayhaps Sir Bunghole is more like-"

Luke slapped him. "I don't know what this is about, but that is it Hans! Either you bend the knee now and we continue this later, if you've still a taste for it… or I send you back to Max."

He muttered sullenly, "Very well. I'll follow you."

_For now._


	28. Chapter 28: Interlude Part 2

Chapter 28:

Interlude Part 2

_The sun glinted on his armor as Alf walked down the courtyard to meet Cayne. He frowned at the number of people massed at either side, apparently there to see the show. He had thought that it would only be Morley and Mars as an audience. He hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. He would have tried to defeat Cayne in any case, but this changed things. He was not well-liked amongst the guards. He knew now that he would have no course but victory. The only way he could gain respect was if they feared his prowess. _

_He came to a full halt in front of Cayne and glanced to the side again. That was when Morley stepped forward, spread his arms, and cried out, "My lords and ladies!" He paused long enough for the guards to enjoy a few moments of general laughter. "I present to you the culmination and climax of the greatest tourney ever seen in Odegan! Our champions; bold Ser Starry Eyes and noble Ser Candy Pants!" _

_Alf's eyes narrowed. He should have realized that Morley was behind this. But then, of course, Morley was more cunning than the rest. Pretending to be Alf's friend just to try and humiliate him! Well, after he defeated Cayne and gained the respect of the others that was due to him he would arrange very special thanks for Morley. _

_He turned his gaze upon the upstart. Morley smiled, but Alf could see the cutting dagger behind the expression. He hissed and turned to Cayne, clanking his helmet back down over his head. Cayne foolishly smiled at him before pulling his own helmet down and offering Alf a salute. _

_Alf reluctantly returned the salute before crouching down into a fighting stance. For what seemed to be an eternity there was silence in the yard, and no movement. And then Cayne lunged. Alf swiftly parried the strike and felt his confidence return with the successful defense. Cautiously he advanced forward, punctuating each step with a small jab. _

_Cayne took a step back, and then suddenly lunged forward again, beating Alf's blade. He flicked the sword back into a guard position and took a lunge of his own. Cayne started to take a step backward, and then dashed forward. Alf brought his own blade up as fast as he could, but even so, he just barely blocked the cut. _

_Cayne was already moving in though and it was taking just about all of Alf's concentration to keep up a suitable defense. He had let the fop get in close, too close. If he played the fight carefully however, he might be able to turn that to a disadvantage… _

_Alf purposely slowed the pace of his feet, though he kept his blade-work nimble enough to avoid a touch. Finally Cayne took the bait that Alf had been proffering and jabbed at Alf's underarm. He started to move for what would turn into a vicious counter-attack, but Cayne, rather than following through with the maneuver, flicked his blade down and lunged at Alf's leg. _

_It had been a feint, and a more subtle feint than Alf would have expected, but he didn't let it take him off guard- too much. Quickly following the outline of his original strategy he stepped back so that Cayne's blade fell just short. The younger guard made the mistake that Alf had been hoping for; rather than pulling back into his guard he tried to push forward just a little further at that tantalizing target that Alf's leg made. As Cayne over-extended and consequently came forward even more, Alf sprang into a spirited offensive. _

_He moved his left arm up and Cayne automatically started to bring his own blade up to the target. At the same time, Alf flicked his blade down to meet Cayne's and neatly riposted straight into Cayne's chest. _

_"Yield," Alf gritted out. The bout had, more than he cared to admit, been a close one. Especially when he defending his leg. Timing that had been more a matter of luck than of skill. _

_Cayne slowly reached up to pull his helmet down. Alf repeated, more firmly, "Yield!" _

_Just as he was about to demand the gesture again, Cayne fell to his knees and let his blade slide from his hand. Alf allowed himself a silent breath of relief. In order to prove his worth he knew that he would need both the symbolic and the physical victory. If Cayne had dug his heels in and refused to acknowledge the defeat… well Alf didn't want to think about that. _

_The young guard smiled and said, "That was quite the trick, Alfred. I don't suppose you'd be willing to show me just how you do that?" _

_Alf took a deep breath as a sense of power slowly welled up within him. He noticed that the yard had become very quiet; most of the spectators had been calling out encouragement to Cayne. Hah! That had deprived them of their entertainment. _

_For the moment he ignored Cayne and slowly strolled over to where the audience was located. He smiled as he said, "Well, boys, most of you just lost your wages, no? Not of course Mars here. Or you Mike, and you Paul. Backed the right man!" He paused for a moment, and smiled at them. He hoped it was a chilling effect. _

_Laughing unpleasantly he continued, "But I'd feel guilty making all of you fine gentlemen pay these three fellows of discriminating taste and good judgment. Why not fight me and call it even, eh Bob?" _

_The stocky looking guard he had directed the sudden question at jumped. He mumbled something about "Not to spoil your fun…" _

_Alf laughed again. "Don't want to spoil my fun? Well I can't say I blame you. Why would you want to fight someone you laughed at in your cups only to find that he's better than you?" He clenched the hilt of his blade as he turned to the most senior member of the group. "What about you, Alec? Oh wait. That's _Lieutenant_ Alec. I forgot. No snide remarks today?" He whipped his sword out, smiling at the looks of apprehension on their faces. _

_At this point Morley jogged over. His voice was good-natured as always, but tinged with uneasiness. "Alf… what's all this? You, you've won your bet. There's no need for—" _

_Alf turned swift as lightning with his sword up at Morley's throat. His voice cracked with anger, "And as for you, you treacherous bas—" _

_At that moment a new voice spoke up. "Ah, there's a small disagreement here I see?" Alf started at the sound of his mentor's mild voice. _

_As he turned to face Ser Kaizel, Morley quickly backed away from the metal sword-point. The bigger guard managed a chuckle, "It's ah… it's nothing Ser Kaizel. There was a bit of a bet you see. That is between Cayne and Alf—" _

_The distinguished looking old campaigner raised a hand. "Well, boys, bets will be made between young men, particularly young soldiers, whether I will it or no. I only ask that you do not pull live steel on one another unless you are _both_ properly armored first." _

_Alf coughed, and shifted his feet. Ser Kaizel gave him an indulgent glance and then continued, "In fact, I was looking for you Morley. You see—" _

_An outraged roar emanated from the entrance of the yard. Alf spun around in time to the see the portly Chancellor waddling across the stonework, red-faced with rage. _

_"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" _

_Ser Kaizel raised his colorless eye-brows and started, "This is well in—" but the Chancellor bulled through him raging furiously. _

_"Live steel being pulled on one another by the guards of Odegan! No, I will not have it! These petty quarrels of yours mean nothing, in the face of Odegan's security!" _

_Shockingly enough, it was Mars who stepped forward. He said in a clear voice, "With all due respect, Lord Chancellor, Odegan in all of the three hundred years since its founding has only once come under attack." _

_The Chancellor screamed, "Silence, boy!" and slapped Mars across the face so hard that Mars's lip split. Mars, even more astoundingly, returned the favor in the form of slapping the Chancellor's face with his gauntleted hand. _

_The Chancellor gasped and spat out a broken tooth. He shrilled, "That boy is to be—" _

_Kaizel broke in. "Left alone. I cannot allow you to man-handle my guards, Chancellor. It seems to me that you reap what you sow." _

_The Chancellor hissed, "He struck us!" _

_"Us?" Kaizel's mouth formed a thin line. "You are not royal, Chancellor. You are hysterical." _

_"IMBECILE!" he bellowed. "I rule Odegan! My word is law, my voice is heard! I will not be struck by some simplistic, rustic, bastard! Yes," he sneered turning to point his forefinger at Mars. "I suppose Ser Kaizel never told you, that's all your father was ever good at! Sleeping with whores was his forte." _

_Mars made a lunge forward, but Bob and Paul both seized hold of his arms, pulling him back. Bob muttered, "Steady on now." _

_An older guard called Charter shouted furiously, "You take that back! Ser Jiles was a good fine man you fat old—" _

_"Hah!" cackled the Chancellor. "And what of Ebenezer? That old fool is the best of the family and he's nothing more than a washed-up fool dreaming of better days!"_

_"Enough!" Kaizel glared at the Chancellor. "Are you drunk, or merely stupid?" _

_"You have no voice in Odegan! I am the only one to have built this kingdom into what it is! His Grace favors you Kaizel, but your days are numbered." _

_"And what, pray, _have_ you done? When you came here, the town was built, and the Castle as well. The only thing you've proven skilled at is sitting on your ass, lying, and cheating—" _

_"SILENCE! I was exonerated of all charges… A strong man, he makes enemies! There was no evidence… no witnesses…" _

_"Two men, who were prepared to come forward, died Chancellor. I was, and still am in favor of you being stripped of your rank and imprisoned for a few years at the least—" _

_"Your opinion doesn't matter! I legislate in Odegan. And," he continued furiously, "The imprisonments we're discussing are those of that maniac and that oaf," he finished pointing at Alf and Mars. _

_Kaizel snapped, "There will be no imprisonment for either of them. Neither needs much, if any disciplining either. You were hysterical and provoked the one, and the other—" _

_"Careful," purred the Chancellor. "I warn you, you're close to disobeying my direct command. That is treason!" _

_"Oh yes? And shall we take the subject up with His Grace?" _

_"Yes," said Alf breaking in for the first time, "Shall we bring this matter before my cousin Ulrich?" _

_"You." The Chancellor gaped at Alf and then turned on Kaizel, the full extent of his fury revived. "Are you mad, you fool? You know what this boy is? You know the loins that sired him!" _

_Before Kaizel could respond Alf hissed, "I will not allow you to slander my noble family! My uncle—" _

_"Yes," sneered the Chancellor. "Your uncle was passing unusual I will admit. I knew the man, and I can say that he was not what you would have expected. But your father now. I knew him more intimately still! Shall we have this discussion boy? Your cousin, His Grace, is barely aware of your existence. Shall I show you mercy and enlighten you before I have you executed?" _

_"You smug bigoted evil!" Alf turned in surprise and saw as Ser Kaizel unsheathed his sword. It was as if a moment in time froze for Alf. Never, never, had anyone seen Ser Kaizel draw his blade in ire. _

_The Chancellor jumped back, licking his lips. "Kaizel… you… you can't, yes that's it, you can't threaten me. I… I'm warning you… fairly. In advance… due course, you… you wouldn't…" _

_Kaizel's voice was chill. "You would warn me? Allow me to return the favor, Edgar." _

_There was a collective gasp at the deadly insult. It was tradition in Odegan for the man named Chancellor to bury his former life, his former name. The name of a man simply known as 'Chancellor' was not supposed to be known. It was an insult of the first order for Kaizel to use the Chancellor's former name. _

_The man turned as white as a sheet. "How… do you know that? You… Yes. King Ulrich will hear of your defiance. That is so." He glanced uneasily at Mars and then at Alf, and suddenly burst out, "How can you do this Kaizel?" He pointed a trembling finger at Alf. "You know what the boy is! You saw what I saw! Forget our other quarrels for the moment, I beg you to come to your senses! The sword… he was threatening a fellow guard… Please, you cannot be serious! I demand…" he wetted his lips, "that you have him taken for…" _

_As the Chancellor trailed off Kaizel faced him, his eyes hard. "No. I will not be party to another of your trumped up trials. By the gods, Alf's just a boy! A good boy. It means nothing!" _

_With a trace of the former hysteria in his voice the Chancellor shot back, "I could order it you know. In these affairs it is well within my powers to act without getting approval from His Grace, if I suspect security is at stake. You'd have to—" _

_"I'm afraid that you're wrong Chancellor." Steel entered Kaizel's voice. "In this matter I am the executive chief of Odegan's military and thus the guards and their punishments are in my jurisdiction. The case is closed." _

_The Chancellor stood there for a long while and finally croaked out, "You'll regret that, Kaizel. We both will." And then, as if some hidden signal had been given the man turned on his heels and started back towards the main castle, his coattails flapping in the wind. _

_Alf watched him go, the whole of his being consumed with hatred. How dare the Chancellor lay unfounded barbs and allegations not only against Alf, but against his family? Ser Kaizel also watched the Chancellor's retreating back, his eyes troubled. _

_Finally he spoke. "Alec. Get the others re-organized and back on duty. Charter, I'll want to see in a few minutes to get some business taken care of. Oh, Morley, you can come as well… Alf, Mars. The two of you will still have that shift tonight." He stared into the distance for a moment as the guards started moving about. Absently laying a hand on Alf's shoulder he murmured distractedly, "I promise, we'll talk soon." _

_Alf's lips twisted for a moment and then he turned to go, beckoning Mars to follow him. After a moment Mars asked, "Where are we going?" _

_He grunted, "Dormitory. We've got a night shift, so we might as well sleep now." _

_"Ah." The boy was silent for a time and finally he said, "I admire your courage Ser. I… I am both proud and honored to be working with you." _

_Alf looked up in genuine surprise. He had been used to scorn insults and prejudice for so long that he had forgotten what it was to receive a compliment. He managed, "Well you know, you're not so bad Mars. Ser Kaizel was right. We'll make a great team." _

_It sounded so wonderful and Alf wanted to believe that he'd finally found a friend… but after realizing what Morley really was, he knew that it was just a lie. A pretty lie. _

_--- _

_Ulrich boomed heartily, "Nothing to report, eh? That's what young Alec said when I sent him to collect your report! Nothing unusual?" _

_Alf, being more talkative than Mars, responded, "Indeed Your Grace! Our… vigil was uneventful." _

_Ulrich laughed delightedly, and boomingly. "My dear boys, you have no notion what this means to us! The best news. Evidently… circumstances require…, oh hang it all, I'm no good at saying what I mean! Kaizel, would you explain to these outstanding citizens what it is that their incompetent old king cannot?" _

_Kaizel smiled, "Certainly Your Grace. Your talents are so many that you have no room left in you brain for simpler… tasks." _

_"Balderdash! Fact of the matter is that I'm undiplomatic, and dammit it all, but I like it!" There was a general round of laughter led by Ulrich himself. _

_Kaizel, after chuckling politely, turned back to Mars and Alf. "You two are to be promoted to the rank of high guard, effective immediately. You're to be put on duty guarding Princess Satera this night." _

_Alf gaped, his usually nimble tongue failing him at this unexpected honor. The Chancellor, who had been standing in the shadow of the throne piped up, "I'll have you know, Your Grace, that I disapprove of this course, this rash course. I would like to lodge a formal complaint and—" _

_"Noted Chancellor… and thrown away!" There was even louder laughter this time, as Ulrich slapped the arm of his throne. Kaizel smiled cuttingly at the Chancellor, who glowered in return. If Ulrich noticed that his two closest advisors were practically in a state of open war with each other, he gave no sign. _

_The Chancellor continued doggedly, "Your Grace, the boy—" _

_Ulrich cut him off. "Is an excellent person indeed!" He turned his gaze on Mars and said, "You'll be Jiles's boy, eh? Knew you father well, m'lad. A truly great man…" He slid his glance to Alf. "And you'd be ah… blast it all, Albert!" _

_"Alfred," he corrected. _

_"Ah, well, there you go Alfonse. Your uncle and I were on very friendly terms, I knew him well." Alf sensed a lurking awareness behind the great bushy beard and mustache of red hair covering Ulrich's face, behind the merrily twinkling eyes, the constant humor. A very shrewd awareness that was bent entirely upon Alf. _

_Improvising rapidly he managed, "You are… kind to say so Your Grace." _

_Ulrich snorted. "Kind nothing! It was a compliment Alain, and that's how you'll take it! Kaizel! See that these two are fed and know their duties!" King Ulrich turned his head to the side and started earnestly discussing something with a minor lord in what was, a clear dismissal. _

_Kaizel glanced at them and said, "You'll be stationed in the east wing of the palace where it's nothing less than easy to get to the spot you'll be guarding. I've taken some arrangements to insure that you'll be properly fed." He glanced over his shoulder and then continued in a hushed voice. "Don't mistake my act earlier for anything other than what it was. The Lord Chancellor is, in fact, in a very powerful position and his ire is directed at both of you. I'll do my best to protect you, but King Ulrich…" Kaizel sighed. "Just be as friendly as you can with others, the more people that befriend you the stronger a position you are in. And, if you can help it, do not give the Chancellor any cause for suspicion." In a louder voice he said, "But I'd expect that you already heard that tale, eh Mars?" _

_Alf gripped Mars by the shoulder and started guiding him out of the throne room. Mars looked slightly dazed. Finally he asked, "Did you notice anything odd about His Grace?"_

_Alf hesitated before answering. "Yes. He seems almost…" _

_Mars frowned. "He's plays the part too hard. It's a stereotype that shouldn't exist. Everything that a genial dimwit is supposed to be, and yet…" _

_Alf chuckled uneasily. "Well. Best be finding these quarters." He thought back on the interview. It hadn't exactly been a lie. When the fog had come, Mars had been perfectly unaltered. Alf, however, had felt a weary sort of lassitude build up within him. It hadn't been enough to send him to sleep, but his senses had dulled. So he had lied to Mars, telling him that something was making him sleepy, and pretended to drift off. No need for his companion to know of Alf's arcane gifts. It was only then that it occurred to Alf, that though he was guilty of telling a half-truth, Mars was guilty of lying on his behalf. It was a sobering thought. _

_He speculated aloud. "There have been rumors you know, of a dark elf, a magician. And something that mysteriously caused the princess an illness… The two events could easily be linked… and what of that fog last night? Part of the sorcerer's web? That would certainly explain our promotion…" He shook his head in vexation. It all fit, but he felt like there was piece of the puzzle missing. King Ulrich always seemed as he had today, but then Alf had never had the chance to study him up close before. He felt certain that he had not been mistaken; the king was not that stupid. No, he merely played a part… And what of the Chancellor? It was possible that he really was a criminal megalomaniac, but the scene he had caused had been downright foolish. Odd, when one considered how shrewd the Chancellor normally was. That suggested that the scene was nothing more than a piece of rehearsed creativity. But why? What was the link? The king? The magician? And that was when Alf remembered the other piece. "The Hobbit Delegation!" _

_Mars said casually, "Hobbits? I was there the other day when the guards refused to let the Hobbit Elder meet with the king. He had a couple of elves with him too, as I recall." _

_Alf looked up sharply. "Refused to meet with the king? But that doesn't make sense… the Hobbit Elder is a respected friend of Odegan. Those elves though…" Slowly he was beginning to see a pattern. A dark elf. Satera's sudden illness. The bombastic façade put on by Ulrich. The Chancellor's increasing mercurial madness. The Hobbit Delegation. Kaizel speaking vaguely of secret missions. And those elves in tow. It always came back around to the elves. _

_"We've stumbled onto something much larger than it appears." He glanced uneasily backwards and said, "We'll stick together though, you and I. Why don't you tell me more of what you've seen?" _


	29. Chapter 29: When it Rains

Chapter 29:

When it Rains…

Earnest drank his way to Skull Castle. In the two years that he had followed the Shining Force he had often, if privately, scorned Vankar for his devotion to drink. He had never before understood what allure the soothing liquid contained. Long ago he had discovered that it was easier to hate than to be torn by wracking sorrow. And now he had learned that it was easier to drown sorrow and anger than to feel either.

The guards that had been detailed to escort the odd group of prisoners back to Skull Castle didn't care what state he was in if he didn't resist or try to escape. At first Earnest had held out. He had tried to study his companions. But that was a depressing study. Krin had also been dragged along with them. She was silent and white-faced, smudged with dirt. She never cried. She never did anything than stumble along looking dazed. Vankar drank the same as he always had before. Vankar was lousy company, the way he had always been. And Kokichi was actually morose. That had been the worst blow of all. Somehow it had seemed so _wrong_ for Kokichi of all people to be depressed. The scar on his face hadn't made things any easier. And so he had finally caved in. He had turned to his fellow prisoners in an attempt to distract himself from his situation. Now he turned to drink to distract him from his fellow prisoners.

After all, what was the good of it all? Years of burning hatred had buried all that had been good in him. Nothing could touch him. Nobody had touched him. Except Lord Max. Earnest himself didn't know how it had happened, but somehow Lord Max had touched that part of him that he had thought Balbazak had killed. And so he had followed the Shining Force. He had never had friends there; they were merely the soldiers he rode with. He had seen the camaraderie amongst them and had silently thought it a weakness. Now he didn't know. He didn't know anything.

He took another swallow of the wine flask that the guards had tossed them. Sour. A deep sour red. That was practically the only thing he cared about anymore. The pleasure to be found in wine had eroded everything else. Well. Not quite everything. Earnest still felt vaguely guilty.

_It was for the children._

That was when a new, horrible thought struck him. He wasn't only ashamed of the things he had done, but he was ashamed of the things he had dreamed of doing for the past several years. And the things he hadn't done. Worst of all he was afraid of Lord Max would feel.

Abruptly he shook his head. It did no good to go round in this circle. He was who he was. And he wanted a drink.

---

"What," asked Prince Nicholas, "do you think that justice is, Lord Max?"

Max stared at the golden-haired heir to the Cyprian Throne. "What kind of a question is that?"

Nick gave him a very tired smile. "A question of infinite importance. Of late I have found myself reflecting on it."

Max frowned. The prince had taken him completely off guard. After this latest confrontation with Deanna, he would have expected Nicholas to rage. But he seemed meditatively thoughtful, leaning back in his chair sipping at a goblet of wine that Lowe had offered him.

Finally Max said, "Justice… justice, I suppose, is another word for the difference between right and wrong. A moral code for a group of people to obey."

A half-smile flitted across Nick's face. He murmured, "Honor, family, duty justice…" He shook his head, seemingly in vexation and stared at Max. Max started to feel uncomfortable, it seemed that the prince was trying to memorize his features.

Then Nick stood and his manner was, once again, ice. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Max. This meeting has been most informative. Unless you have further need of me?"

Max started. Only Nick had the ability to do that to him. He managed, "That is all… wait!" Nick turned back at the opening of the tent. Max asked, "What did you mean before? When speaking to Deanna?"

Nick's mouth worked silently and he turned so that his back was to Max. Finally he asked hoarsely, "What, Lord Max… what do you believe?"

Max seriously considered the question. What did he believe, in regards to Nick? Why had Nick been interested in allying himself with the Shining Force? Originally, Max had hoped it was because Nick recognized the dire situation and was reaching out, but even then he had allowed that there would be political expediency in the gesture. At the time, Nick had doubtless desired allies that would help him overcome his enemies. Now that he had lost Cypress he followed them because he truly needed them. Moreover, Max was well aware that it had been a dream of King Nicholas I to expand Cypress beyond its borders to various coastal regions of Rune. Allying with the Shining Force, and by extension, the kingdoms of Rune brought King Nicholas II that much closer to his father's goal.

He felt intensely aware of the silence growing between them. Finally Max chose honesty. "I don't really know King Nicholas." It was the first time Max had used that title. "You have not precisely inspired trust, you know."

Nick stood there, very still. "And Deanna has?"

Max heard the touch of anger in his tone. He quoted softly, "'I don't want it anymore.' What do you want, Your Grace?"

Nicholas made some reply, but the words were muffled. Max waited in silence. Nick murmured, "Honor, duty, family, justice…" Slowly he turned back to Max and opened his mouth, though he never said anything. And for the first time Max really studied him.

A handsome face, that, but one that had long ago forgotten how to smile and perhaps had never known how to laugh. Cold and austere though he was, there was a hint of anguish in the perfectly regular features of Nick. On a sudden impulse, Max inquired, "Did you love your father?"

Nick turned and started to walk away. Just half-way out of the tent, he called over his shoulder. "Yes. I did. But mostly, I loved my uncle."

Max sat there and watched as Nick fled. He allowed himself to sigh, took a brief moment to massage his temples, and reached for his own glass of wine. Ian smiled sardonically. "Wishing you hadn't asked?"

Max sighed again. "I suppose so. I'm quite good at handling other people's sorrows, most of the time. Mayhaps not so much lately."

Lowe snorted. "Don't fish for compliments. But you might tell us," he paused long enough to wipe his nose, "what it is between you and Anri? I'll wager that we're not the only ones who noticed."

Max's tone was chilly. "There is nothing between Anri and me. We just… had a disagreement recently."

Lowe laughed out loud. "About the arrangement of your sleeping pallets, I'll wager."

Mae looked at him. "Far be it from me to suggest that ribald jests come in second compared to the war."

He hastily threw up his hands. "Alright, alright. I'll admit that it was in bad taste." Lowe's eyes still laughed, but Max noted a certain watchfulness in them. He flushed, abruptly. He had never been able to conceal much from his genial friend.

Ian spoke up dryly. "Although I find your observations, Lowe, to be quite amusing, Mae is correct. We spent much of that meeting listening to Deanna and Nick spar with each other. We may as well continue on the topic of the war, so as to get something done."

Max offered his nephew a friendly smile. He was glad to get back to this topic for more reason than one. He asked, "Mae, Ian, Lowe? Opinions, please."

Mae started her eyes cool her voice steady. "I don't see too much that we can do at this point. We took care of Chu Rao, but most of our enemies are pent up at Skull Castle at this point. Until we can liberate other kingdoms from siege, we lack the strength for that battle. We might be best served by investigating the claims of Prince Nicholas of this fortress that his enemy is building. Certainly that one is more vulnerable than most."

Lowe rebutted, "That's still quite a ways off. We need to give ourselves some rest. We've done well so far, but if we keep trying to go at this rate, we'll eventually kill ourselves. Furthermore, I think it would be best to investigate affairs back home. The fact that Luke has re-taken Alterone does not alleviate the larger problem."

"If we leave now to do that, we'll never regain this spot. And it's because Mishalea can't send in all of her strength, en masse, to this camp that we're still alive. If we move out, that changes."

Ian raised his dark eyes from the table. "There's much in what you both say. But I wouldn't do things either way. If you want my advice, then it is to do nothing. As Lowe said, we're weakened from the constant battles, especially the ones that Chu Rao kept giving us. To move prematurely is death. To abandon this site is also death. We need to lick our wounds before we do anything."

Mae replied, "The longer we sit here, the longer Mishalea has to take advantage of. We need to give her constant warfare so as to keep foiling her schemes."

Max ran his fingers through his hair. It was good advice all around, but he wasn't sure… "Well, I don't think we should weaken ourselves looking to the others, Lowe. From what that messenger told us, Luke and Torl between them have taken things well in hand."

Lowe shrugged artlessly. "True. So then, what should we do? Rest or fight?"

Rather than answer the question Max mused aloud, "I'd hoped that we would have heard from Earnest by now. Rudo's not terribly far off after all…"

Lowe winced. Max didn't have to say it aloud; the implication was clear enough to all. In the silence that followed it was Mae who finally offered the hard statement. "They may well be counted amongst our losses by now. Three against whomever and whatever Mishalea had sent? At least Luke and the others had the prospect of allies in the area. Aye. And having Torasu with them made the mission less suicidal."

Max's mouth became a hard line. "I had no choice."

Mae returned softly, "I'm not criticizing you." Max glanced at her sharply. That single phrase was the closest he'd heard her come to lowering her façade of ice. Lowe broke the awkward pause.

"No matter the fate of Earnest and the others, we're lucky to have come off so lightly in terms of casualties anyway. I reemphasize; we need to rest, if only to prevent inadvertently turning more of our friends into corpses." He cleared his throat and asked, "And how exactly did Slade die?"

Max looked up dully. "Chu Rao's ambush in the town we were resting in. We were too loose with the wine. My fault. And Slade tried to sleep off the effects of battle. I wasn't there, but they probably killed him before he had a chance."

"Slade." Mae's tone held the shade of inquiry. "I noticed. There seemed to be something odd about that one."

Ian broke in dryly, "It hardly matters now. He's dead."

"Quite." Max's tone dismissed the subject. "Lowe, can you give me a brief run-down on the state of our forces?"

The blue-haired healer smiled in a tired fashion. "Most about everybody's got something in the way of a small injury. These last several days have been filled with battle though. The ones I would consider to be in critical condition are as follows; Guntz, if perhaps in much better shape, is still going to have major problems thanks to his cracked ribs. Zylo's not recovered, his burns were pretty severe. Arthur… I think the fever is finally breaking, but I'm still not sure about him." Lowe stopped, clearly trying to think.

Abruptly he leaned forward and asked, "What do you think about Domingo these days?"

Max's hand involuntarily jerked. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Well. There's no good pretending. I'll suppose we've all noticed it by now. Something is going on there. You're asking me for my opinion?" Lowe nodded. Max tried hard to keep his tone nonchalant. "Depression. I'm not one to pinpoint the cause though."

Lowe passed his querying glance over both Ian and Mae. Ian begged off, "I hardly know him. You can't expect me to postulate a theory." Mae's answer was silence. Lowe ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes bright with speculation.

"Depression? It might be. He doesn't exactly seem to be typically depressed though." A funny expression passed over his face. "I'd almost be inclined to say that he's lovesick." This statement was greeted by very immediate reactions. Lowe flushed apologetically and Ian offered a sardonic smile. Mae's face became, if it was possible, even more still.

Max's mind shot back to the 'disagreement' as he had dubbed it, with Anri. He felt irrationally tense over the pronouncement.

_Domingo… in love? Stranger things have happened. _

Trying hard not to think about his own desire for a healthy relationship he asked, "Have you sought a second medical opinion?"

Lowe's flush became even more pronounced. Max looked at his friend in genuine surprise. Lowe who was always so kind, so good-natured, so genial was embarrassed? By comparison Domingo being in love was about as natural a happening as the sky being blue.

Lowe finally muttered, "I've only had Gong around to help me with most of the others."

"And?"

"Well… if you must know. Yes. I did ask him. His response wasn't very helpful." Normally Max wasn't one to pry, but the reluctance in Lowe's voice intrigued him.

"What was his opinion?"

"A low chuckle. He then proceeded to ask me as to my opinion on Queen Anri and a few other ladies in… ah… quite explicit terms."

Max almost laughed. "That shouldn't surprise you. He's a man after all and healers are well-acquainted with the body."

Lowe made an impatient gesture. "It's not that and you know it. It's… well its Gong. To be honest, Max, I don't much like Gong."

Mae abruptly endorsed this statement. "Nor do I."

Ian who had been sitting silently with a thoughtful expression on his face spoke up. "This is all very fascinating, but permit me to make one or two little observations. We have reached crossroads." He paused long enough to ascertain that there was no disagreement and then continued, "Our options stand something like this, continue to serve Mishalea's friends fire and steel with the bonus of taking advantage of various weaknesses and of keeping her off guard. Or, alternately to break of this pursuit and return to liberate the lands of our allies thus gathering up the strength needed to assault Skull Castle. Our final option; to do nothing at the moment but take respite while we continue to consider and to watch." Ian took a deep breath. "It seems to me, that the question is this, Uncle, do we stand and fight? Or do we rest and watch?"

Max sat there silently turning over the options in his mind. He was largely inclined to take only a brief respite from fighting, but he wasn't sure where to turn his attention. Finally he rendered judgment, "We rest for now."

---

"Ah," sighed Zeon. "Good. I knew that you would not abandon me, my faithful lord of Odd-Eye. Come and tell me what has kept you from gracing us with your presence."

Odd-Eye tried to choose his words wisely. There was relief in Zeon's voice, but a hint of ire as well. He would have to be careful. "I have been occupied with a subject that I think you should find most intriguing, Your Grace. That of the madman, Warderer."

Zeon's face darkened and he smacked the table before him with a heavy hand. "So! The claims of that madman were, in fact, grounded in truth! You have been to see him? To get him to kill Mishalea?"

Odd-Eye was genuinely taken aback. Zeon had always been a man of passions, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. Despite that, nobody could ever have called Zeon a fool. The sudden explosive burst… the seeming of imbecility was unprecedented. He proceeded cautiously, "The death of Mishalea is his personal vendetta. I allowed him to think that there is a hope of getting us to aid him."

Zeon glowered at him. "You did this without asking my express approval."

"With all due respect, Your Grace, I have taken on many delicate tasks on your behalf without first asking your approval."

He grunted. "Yes. Well. Be that as it may." A slight frown creased Odd-Eye's brow. He thought he could detect a trace of wine on Zeon's breath. The King of the Devils continued, "I confess, when I heard that claim I wondered. My faithful lord of Odd-Eye had disappeared. To join cause with Warderer? Yes," he bellowed, "I wondered! Yet here you are claiming that you are trying to dupe him for our noble cause." Abruptly Zeon nodded. "That is good. How has your progress been? What line are you advancing under?"

Odd-Eye thought with a wince that now he would have to take up the added concern to keep Zeon from knowing anything that wasn't safe. He improvised rapidly, "I began with the thought that it was Warderer who was at the root of all our troubles."

"Ridiculous," scoffed Zeon. "It's that accursed whore, Mishalea who's the real problem. If it wasn't for her, I could handle Warderer."

"Exactly! You see, Your Grace," Odd-Eye allowed a level of sliminess to permeate through his voice; "the problem lies in the fact that there's this group of a triad. Think on it. The last great war we had with Warderer. We almost won that, and probably could have if we'd pressed onward. What made you hold your hand? The fact that Mishalea was looking on with a predatory gaze, ready to finish whomever was weakened but victorious. Warderer does the same when you fight Mishalea. You do the same when the two fight each other. It's because no one has successfully stepped out far enough to collapse the triad system that you've been left with these enemies for so long, Your Grace."

Zeon slapped the table before him. "Precisely! You have struck the nerve of it my good and dear friend! So that's what you're up to eh? Deceiving Warderer, drawing him out, making him stick his neck out! And then… we are to be his executioners, yes?"

"No. While we're at it, why not have Mishalea to do it? She'll relish the opportunity and take advantage of it."

"Yes… It is a good plan. But how do you propose that we do draw him out?"

Odd-Eye silently cursed his luck. He had hoped that King Zeon wouldn't want too many details and there had been a time when he knew that he would have been sure that Zeon wouldn't. But it seemed that Zeon had taken ever more deeply to vices…

He continued on the spur of the moment, "It is, I think, the curse of every great man to have an overwhelming passion in life. And it is clear that there is something in the past between Warderer and Mishalea. It is also clear that Warderer desires her death above all else. We have to convince him of our support in this ambition of his, enough so that he will step out…"

"And we step back allowing Mishalea to swallow him whole. Good notion. Well. You may continue on in that duty, Odd-Eye. But before you do so, I want you to look into Warderer's past. Find out what exactly is between him and Mishalea. Oh, and if you can, find out who trained him. I can't imagine who would have been willing to waste time on that embittered agitator."

Odd-Eye bowed his head. "As you command, Your Grace." It mattered not, in the end, how steeped Zeon was in his vices. Odd-Eye's loyalty to King Zeon was absolute; the two of them were bound together. His master had blind spots, namely Geshp, but that didn't matter. Odd-Eye would work around those flaws to aid Zeon until he himself fell. That was his purpose.

The worst part of it was, of course, the things he had to keep from his master. Deceiving Cameela was one thing, although, truth be told, Odd-Eye retained some respect for that particular colleague.

No, the deceptions he had to weave round King Zeon were the ones that stung. _The lies_, he thought, _that we tell for love. _

The deceit made him feel soiled, but in the end it didn't matter. Unbidden an image of himself laughing and drinking with an old dwarf sprang up. He was disturbed at how often he had thought of Gort, and some of the others with whom he had shared faux camaraderie. He had tried to banish the thoughts, but even more frighteningly, there were the good things of that brief time, the things that made him reluctant to let go.

It was as though, a whisper out of the past had arisen in his mind, the image of a young man named Oddler who had lived many years ago. He shuddered at the memory of a young man he had not seen in a very long time, and turned his attention back to Zeon, who, he realized belatedly, had been speaking.

"Anyway, I cannot personally oversee any of this. That's to be your job, Odd-Eye. I… I have other concerns just at the moment."

As he said that, the door opened, and Geshp sidled in. Odd-Eye stood quickly, allowing the plump devil to have a full view of him. Geshp stopped abruptly, but the only other reaction he gave was that the corners of his mouth tightened slightly. Finally he spat out, "So. I see that the wandering minstrel has returned."

Odd-Eye offered him a cold smile. "Geshp. Nice to see you. If you care to put it like that, then yes. I've been tending the flock."

"Weeding out the _weaker strains_?"

Ah. So Geshp had guessed that he had killed Zalbard. Well, Odd-Eye hadn't exactly been subtle. Far from it. And someone was bound to guess. Cameela's hatred of Geshp would have clouded her objectivity in viewing things anyway.

Zeon had been staring at Geshp. He burst out, "Well? What the hell do you want?"

Geshp cleared his throat, "Actually sir, there's a couple of things. First, I'd like to put in another request for-"

"Dammit, I've told you seven times now! No!"

"In that case…"

Geshp leered at Odd-Eye and leaned in close to whisper something in Zeon's ear. Odd-Eye, being certain that he would learn what was about eventually, and being able to take a hint, slipped out. Besides. He had an appointment to keep.

Cameela sat up energetically as he came into the room he had closeted her in, after rescuing her. "So, how did it go?"

"Reasonably well. I had to improvise quite a bit, but King Zeon accepted the thesis. The only new problem is that now he expects me to follow up on it."

Cameela shrugged. "It's a good idea, and it takes care of one problem."

Odd-Eye pointed out in an acid tone, "You do realize my dear, that at this rate we'll destroy the need for the Shining Force to do anything?"

She peered at him curiously. "You're really worried about them, then?"

"Not so much them," he lied, "but there is that sword that their leader wields, and with skill if the reports are true. That arcane blade is enough cause for worry."

She chuckled. "I'm not questioning your judgment there. I've been worried about that group too… this new idea is sound though. The Shining Force either starves, retreats and we route them, or tries a head on attack which has only the wildest chance of success."

"The wildest chance," he told her, "is enough."

"Well. Not much we can do about that. Have you implemented any of our ideas to impede Geshp?"

"No. Lying to King Zeon is dangerous enough. Make haste, you say? Mayhaps, but the time is not quite ripe. Too much haste will be a sword pointed at our hearts… hold off, I say."

Cameela snorted. "Too much caution does the same thing. Anyway, I've preempted Geshp this time."

"Really?"

"King Zeon," she replied smugly, "has allowed me to borrow Red Baron."

This did surprise Odd-Eye. Zeon rarely allowed the others to use Red Baron, and if he was favoring Cameela's requests over Geshp's… "Amazing. How on earth did you get King Zeon to do that?"

"I'm not really sure. I presume you've noticed how increasingly volatile he's become?"

"It would be difficult not to see it. The question is why?"

"Well," postulated Cameela, "he's probably galled at having to work with Mishalea and Warderer. And aside from that, it is chafing in other ways as well."

Odd-Eye nodded slowly. Cameela was surprisingly astute. It was really a pity that she was so short-sighted. If she had been cleverer, she would have gone much farther. Then again, Geshp was clever and Geshp was a lying traitor. Cameela was astute and intelligent, with good judgment militarily speaking. Perhaps it was a blessing that that was all. Had she been more talented, she might have grown unhealthily ambitious. As it was, she was stolidly loyal to King Zeon.

She was watching him with her uncanny green eyes. Abruptly she asked, "What should we do about those assassins?"

"Nothing." He paused for a moment, and then continued, "I see nothing we can do besides quietly investigate. To tell King Zeon would be rash, he's like to confront Mishalea over that. And there's hardly anybody else to tell. I say watch and learn."

Cameela made an inarticulate sound. "Do you have any solid theories?"

Actually Odd-Eye had given this point a good deal of thought. But the more he thought about it, the less reason he saw for any of Mishalea's high officers to desire Cameela's death. Of course, he didn't assume himself privy to all of her dealings now that they had cautiously allied with each other. Doubtless there was some sort of reason and it probably had to do with some of Cameela's actions that he was not informed of.

He replied, "I've one or two ideas. Nothing too concrete though. I haven't, after all, had much of a chance to investigate, my dear."

Her mouth quirked. "And?"

"The best thing I could suggest is that if somebody was trying to assassinate you, it seems to be in style with Eiku." He thought it even more in style with Magus, truth be told, but those assassins had been good. Professionals. And he sincerely doubted that Magus would have the foresight or the intelligence to put in professionals.

Cameela sighed, obviously brooding over the event. That was understandable. He'd certainly be doing just that, had he been the victim. With a sigh she rose from the bed, and Odd-Eye realized that she was completely naked. He politely averted his eyes.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to be coy about. I'm a soldier, and we're hardly a self-conscious lot." She held out her hand. "Well then, I've got a damn perimeter to run. Until next time." He took the hand, and, on a sudden impulse, raised it to his lips.

She looked amused as he ducked out of the room to go and see to Warderer.

---

Lynx sat in the swaying cabin of his flag-ship, _The Honor_. Gripping the side of the window he stared out over the aquamarine waves of the ocean, reflecting on the task he had been given.

The domination of Rune. A bold goal. When Lynx had first set out, he had privately harbored doubts about the enterprise. But, like a good commander, he had seen to the state of his troops, studied the maps and brought himself up to date on current events.

Despite his earlier concerns, it seemed that the situation was surprisingly well in hand. Magus was, to the best of his knowledge, attempting to subdue Alterone, and his own man, Zocc, was fighting in the Manarina region. That alone had been enough to restore some of his confidence; Lynx placed a great deal of faith in Zocc's abilities.

And after studying the current situation at length, he immediately realized the tactical necessity of the plan. The nomadic tribe of the Pao Plains had not yet fallen, largely, he suspected, because no concerted force had been brought to bear on them. Mishalea had originally planned on crushing Guardiana underfoot and moving out from there. As she had quickly learned, that plan was flawed. She might have eventually brought Guardiana, Alterone, Manarina, and Rindo under her control, as she doubtless would have from the beginning if Eiku's sack had been effective, but Bustoke was a different matter.

Trying to take the mountain town from its southern cliffs was doomed to failure, no matter what she threw at it. If, however, a force smashed the defenses of Pao, it could come up on Bustoke from the northern woods and make quick work of the town. Once that happened, the extra forces could decide the assault in the Manarina Region before triumphantly pressing on to Alterone and Guardiana.

The difficulty was in ascertaining what sort of resistance he would be met with. He didn't know of any records of war with Pao Tribe, so he couldn't know what to expect. It was a disquieting thought. A polite tap sounded on the wooden door.

Still gazing at the sea he called, "Enter."

Into the room came a thin, nervous looking man dressed in the ceremonial robes of a mage. Lynx raised his eye-brows. He began without preamble, "You are?"

The man squeaked, "Yu-y-you called f-for a m-m-m-mage m'l-o-o-rd!"

Lynx peered at the man. He was too tactful to ask if the fellow had been born with the stammer, but he couldn't help wondering. He replied, "Yes. Scrying. I presume you've been over the material already?"

The mage turned even whiter than before if such a thing was possible for a man of such a pasty complexion. "Y-y-es! M-m-m-my lord!"

Resisting the urge to cradle his head he said tersely, "Get on with it."

The mage took several deep breaths, puffed out his chest, sucked in his stomach, wrinkled his face, ran a hand through his hair and clutched his staff. Lynx almost asked the mage to hurry along, but he controlled himself. The arcane arts had to be treated with delicacy. Even if this particular practitioner seemed better at posturing than conjuring.

The mage held out his staff and murmured the spell with surprisingly little stumbling. An eerie white light radiated softly around the staff and slowly expanded outward until it covered the whole of the cabin. Lynx felt the familiar sensation of vertigo, a discomfort he had grown used to, as his mind disengaged from his body to see events happening miles away.

_A well-dressed man sat in a carved oaken chair in the ruins of a burned town. There were no banners in evidence to show where this man was. The man's face was tight with a bad-tempered scowl. If not for the scowl, his face might have been elegant or at least striking with its darkly glowing skin and complete baldness save for a thin black moustache that looked exquisitely groomed. _

_To the right of the man stood another man, this one also well-dressed, in the livery of Guardiana. Before both of the two was a large table with some papers, goblets, and two flagons of wine. The one standing to the right of the chair murmured, "Are you certain that the hard line is going to work? The young king may be more influenced by gifts, honors…" _

_The seated man replied tersely, "Gifts? We don't have any gifts. The boy may find he likes the taste of power well enough, but he'll have no idea how to make use of it. It will be easiest if-" A fanfare of trumpets cut him off. The man standing at his side straightened up and the other man immediately assumed an expression devoid of emotion, although his mouth was, apparently, permanently bordered by creased lines. _

_Approaching the table was a youth of about fifteen, handsomely dressed with a crown resting easily on his red hair. He was surrounded by courtiers who looked as though they had seen better days, although none of them stinted on the wardrobe. _

_The man in the chair remained seated. He raised his voice as he greeted the approaching youth in a monotone. "King Regis. Forgive me if I do not rise." _

_Regis returned the greeting, his own voice full of the easy arrogance of a young king. "Lord Ward, nice to see you. I understand you had need of me." Regis paused, snapped his fingers and watched as two servants hurried forward to set a chair down for him. Regis sat and snapped his fingers again. More servants hurried forward, this time bringing with them steaming platters of food. _

_Regis winked. "Hope you don't mind if I insist on having a regular meal here. What do you want, Ward?" _

_Ward's voice remained free of inflexions. "Your Grace, I came here both for business and to give you a little friendly advice. Which would you prefer to hear first?" _

_Regis, having undoubtedly rehearsed this earlier, tore hungrily into the roasted meat before him before answering, "Business before pleasure." _

_Ward's monotone droned on. "As you say, Your Grace. Guardiana wants recompense." _

_Regis stopped in the middle of chewing a mouthful of meat. He obviously wasn't surprised; perhaps he was irritated. He replied in an airy tone, "Recompense? For what? Alterone is under no obligations." _

_"I would say the fact that you have me to thank for being on the throne is reason enough." _

_"_You?_ Pardon me, Lord Ward, but I was under the impression of that I had General Torl to thank for my throne. He was doing nothing less than his duty." Regis had obviously learned well from somebody. The hint of a sneer in his voice spoke to how he was enjoying the confrontation._

_"General Torl would be dead if he had not received aid from Guardiana. Aid that I gave, and that I organized." _

_Regis stopped pretending to be friendly. "Guardiana has rendered aid and has our gratitude. That is all." _

_Ward's voice held a trace of heat. "You little fool. You've already studied Guardiana's demands. Produce what we require." _

_Regis's mouth tightened. "When you first began these negotiations with my late cousin, the idea was reasonable. Now you practically require that I surrender Alterone to become a domain of Guardiana. That will not happen." _

_"When the negotiations were first broached, Guardiana didn't need to expend so much effort on Alterone. Now we require more." _

_Regis reddened. "I could have your tongue out for that disrespect." _

_"Which only goes to further show that you have the wits of a chicken." _

_"You can't talk to me like that. I'm the king. I can do as I please." _

_"Magus did as he pleased. Has nobody told you what happened to him?" _

_Regis sputtered for a moment. He shot out, "I don't think that I need the advice of a cripple." Sycophantic laughter abounded. _

_Ward's face darkened considerably, "_Cripple_? You should have left off with your earlier blatant disrespect, Your Grace. I will put this simply. You are a boy. You have been crowned, but you have no hope of keeping your crown if you surround yourself with useless lickspittles. You need me. I, however, don't need you." _

_Regis shrilled, "I won't sit here and be insulted. Come!" With that the boy king swept off. _

_The man standing to the right of Ward said dryly, "Tell me again how the hard line will work?" _

_Ward snorted. "He'll be back tomorrow. He's been king all of a week. He can't afford to be seen as running back to the castle after his first negotiation." _

_The other man looked at him sharply, "You planned to make him surrender in insult?" Ward was silent. Finally the other man said, "Even if he does come back. Queen Anri won't hold him to these terms." _

_Ward's voice grated, "Queen Anri does not rule in Guardiana." _

Lynx abruptly felt another wrench of vertigo as his mind traveled to another location. He knew few mages could hold scrying for so long, so successfully, the rest of the images to come would be quick, most like jerky and disconnected.

_In a library stood a mage staring out over the wastes of a desert, turning back as someone else said, "Felic?" _

_In a small house a man was screaming at another man, "We couldn't send anyone, there's not e-" _

_In an abandoned courtyard lay a rotting corpse with a white cloak fastened along the neck that had long since ceased to breath. _

_In a tavern carved out of the mountains Hans the elf sat, dandling a girl on his lap whilst an impressive looking centaur paced about. The door slammed open. _

_On the Pao Plains, Queen Koron held a council in the fort of Uranbatol. _

With a sickening abruptness, Lynx's consciousness slammed back to _The Honor_ where his body was located. Feeling flushed, he gasped, "You, bring my commanders to me. At once."

The mage nodded and started to duck out of the room, but Lynx forestalled him with a question. "What is your name?"

The answer was long in coming. "Cla-cla-cla-c-cl-Clatt! S-sir!"

Lynx murmured. "When you gather my commanders, stay. I would have you promoted, effective immediately."

---

Solo jumped to his feet sputtering, "Ki-King Warderer! That is, Your Grace! Please, ah, be welcome." He swept his hand outward to encompass the whole of his tent.

Warderer glared at him, his green eyes sparkling, alert, and wholly furious. "Spare me your false courtesy."

Solo tried not to gape as he hurriedly shut his mouth. He could feel the sweat gleaming on his bald head. Why had Warderer come here? What did he know? He croaked uneasily, "Your Grace, what is your pleasure?"

Warderer growled bad-temperedly, "You damn well know that I'm not here for pleasure."

Solo sat there nervously. Had King Warderer discovered his plotting? The purposely delayed building? The secret task he was preparing for Harkan? He tried to remain silent until King Warderer would elaborate, but under the murderously focused gaze he wavered. Finally he said, "How may I serve?"

Warderer continued to glare. "You know well enough that this fortress you're building here is going to be a key part of Mishalea's new collaborated network."

"What?" Solo tried hard not to sound too puzzled, although he actually had no idea what Warderer was talking about. He added a belated, "Your Grace."

A look of cruel amusement fluttered across Warderer's face. "Ah, so you haven't heard after all. Informants failing you?"

He manfully resisted the urge to rise to the bait and this time he resolved to remain silent. It didn't take too much effort, however. The amusement flashed across Warderer's bearing and vanished quickly. The King of Iom seemed less irritated now, and more pensive.

Warderer grunted, "Well, you don't know. So much the better. Point is, Mishalea's sent out Cameela, Bazoo, and me to set up a powerful blockade against the Shining Force. Idea is, they'll starve, move to a more vulnerable position, or die in a heroic attack. Your fort here is to be the primary northern point of this network. Her other idea is that we won't risk antagonizing each other, because none of us have an advantage out here. We'll all be evenly represented."

Solo paused and finally asked, "And what do you want me to do?"

Warderer laughed, but the sound was bitter rather than jovial. "Always caught on quick, didn't you Solo? Clever. That's what they always said about you. Damn clever. Well, that old bitch is right. I don't give a damn whatever you're plotting about. I don't care if you want to be King of Iom, I don't care if you want to kill Barbara, I don't care about any of that. Just remember; you are to give no offence to Zeon or the others. We can't afford it. Concentrate your efforts on Mishalea, or die."

Solo stared at his liege with those hotly burning eyes. The passion behind them was scarcely controlled. So it was true after all. Most high Iomites had guessed, but none ever spoke of it openly. It was well-known that Warderer was not wholly sane and the sheer intensity of his hatred, the constant stinging barbs, the brooding stares and quiet comments… It all added up to one thing. There was something personal between Warderer and Mishalea. Well aware that his monarch was awaiting a reply, Solo knelt down, already trying to fit this development into his own plans.

"I live but to serve, Your Grace."

---

Eiku sat at his desk staring across the wood at Cellion, who had returned from his mission, briefly. Slit stood in the doorway reporting various pieces of news.

"And so, Lord Eiku most is quiet on all of se fronts. However…" the Supreme General paused for dramatic effect, "Sere is a rumor going around sat se General Cameela has vanished!"

Eiku glanced at the lizardman, and then back at Cellion. He broke into laughter. Cellion joined him. The lizardman peered curiously at his superiors, and asked, "Vat is sis?"

Eiku managed to choke out, "Oh, nothing… please," he had to stop as nervous laughter built up in his throat, demanding to be released. "Please," he gasped, "please continue reporting." Unable to contain himself, he started laughing again.

Slit, looking very uncomfortable, continued, "Sere are various rumors in effect, but se truth is sat nobody knows vat has happened. Lady Mishalea is furious."

Eiku slapped his leg still laughing with the same nervous quality in his voice. Slit manfully pressed on, "In oser news, I have heard from se front. Rudo has been taken, along vis some captives."

Finally bringing himself to bear Eiku chocked off the laughter and stepped up. "My dear General Slit, this is wonderful news. I knew that my faith in you would not be in vain. You have done well, please; take this report of yours to Lady Mishalea, she will be most eager to receive it."

Slit drew himself up and bowed, not without a certain amount of dignity. Just as he was turning on his heel Eiku suddenly asked, "General?" The lizardman turned back on his heels smartly.

"Do you know anything of this discovering of former Supreme General Brogan's body? Tarbeck was quite puzzled."

"I know nosing."

"Very good." The lizardman departed sharply.

Cellion looked across the table at asked, "You suspect him of the murder?"

Eiku shrugged. "He's the only one that I see gaining anything out of it. It's not that much of a leap. But to be frank, I don't actually give a damn. Brogan had fulfilled his purpose. I'm much more interested in knowing," he leaned forward slightly, "why you've come back rather than completing your mission?"

Cellion recognized the subtle hint of anger in his superior's tone. "With all due respect sir, I felt you would have need of me here. I discovered that our kind Lady had sent out the one known as Gwaid to do much the same work you had assigned to me. We met at a village; I suggested that he merge his forces with mine and take control, while I returned to report. He agreed."

Eiku threw himself back down into his chair. "I see. Do you think there's a possibility of an alliance in those quarters?"

Cellion shrugged. "Perhaps. If Gwaid wins any great victories, then I have done him a favor. And if he fails, then it becomes his failure and not ours, sir. A win-win situation."

"Indeed. At any rate, you were correct. I do need you here. I've received orders from Mishalea," he grimaced slightly, "to the effect that Supreme General Slit must represent our forces in her new network. Besides the fact that I therefore need my right hand as my left has been taken, there's always the risk that I lose him if he leaves."

"I shouldn't say so sir. Lady Mishalea never resolved the incident at the fortress to her satisfaction. One word from you and Slit will be executed. Aside from that, he's also grateful to you sir. You're an inspiring commander."

"Thank you. At any rate, it would appear that our latest gambit has paid off. It's time to return to the game with a vengeance. Nosshu's been behaving peculiarly lately. I want to know why. In the meantime," he flashed a quick grin, "I shall be working on Paezorta."

---

Rashag looked up, his face full of fury. "You mizzuble lyin' scum! 'Twas you 'o killed Fenga!"

Bulldor's voice, though stony, was edged with aggravation. "She died of a fever and you know it. We've still got ground to cover. Come."

He turned back, but a new voice spoke up. "Rashag's right mates! Why risk our lives like this? Doesn't mean much to him!"

Bulldor spun round, eyeing the soldier who had spoken. A quiet fellow, Karr. "You too? You all believe that Mistress Dava sent me out here to try and kill seven of her own soldiers? Well. Your powers of deduction have left me speechless."

Rashag gritted, "Talk big 'nough up there, wit' that hammer yer always a-totin'."

Bulldor tossed his hammer down quick as that. His voice was even and dangerous. "Still want to take me on, Rashag?"

Rashag stood there for a moment and then turned his sullen glance to the ground. Bulldor silently exhaled a sigh of relief. He couldn't afford to kill any of them, but for now his leadership would remain intact. As he turned, picking up his hammer, he noted the angry looks on the faces of the others. Rashag, Karr, Durrant…

_They all hate me_.

If he wasn't used to it, Bulldor might have wept.


	30. Chapter 30: Deterioration

Chapter 30:

Deterioration

Uglu studied the centaur with more than a little interest. This captive was an older man, austere and dignified even when bloodied and bruised, and possessed with an unflappable aristocratic bearing. The centaur's eyes flicked open, fully alert despite his worsened circumstances.

Dava stood quietly to the side of Uglu in the shadows. Uglu started pacing about, still studying his captive. Already Dava felt that she had made a good choice. Uglu's hospitality had been masterful, his questioning of her, keen and intelligent, his courtesy perfect even if his manner had been a little cold to her after she had announced her condition.

His long face was alert and still, bearing a mask of stone. His judgment seemed to be astute and he kept his cards close to his chest. A worthy alliance indeed.

Uglu's voice suddenly sounded. "Kashing, born in the twelfth year of the reign of Silus VI to the modestly powerful house then of the name Orr. In the fourteenth year of the reign of Silus you became lord of house Orr by proxy, your stewards ruled through you. You became a lord in your own right at the age of twenty three, the second year of the reign of Drusus, now commonly regarded as mad. When Drusus died under mysterious circumstances in the fourth year of his reign, you supported his nephew, Gadis, over his son on the grounds that Drusus II was mentally incompetent. You loyally supported King Gadis throughout his mostly prosperous reign of twenty two years, including military support at the outbreak of not one, but two rebellions. You also acted as Ambassador to Rune on numerous occasions on King Gadis's behalf. At the death of King Gadis, you supported his son Nicholas I who followed as a great king in his father's footsteps and who reigned for eleven years. You supported the son of Nicholas over his brother Edmond whom you continue to call usurper. In reward for your loyalty, King Nicholas II, during his brief reign, increased your holdings and your standing at court. At the fall of King Nicholas II, you joined the rebellious group styling themselves the 'Freedom Fighters.'"

Kashing responded hoarsely. "Your recounting of my history is masterful; your knowledge of Cypress's history is impressive. Alas, I fear that my life has not been such a wonderful thing as it sounds."

Uglu's tone remained impassive. "Few lives are."

Kashing inclined his head. "Your treatment has been very courteous and your words are well-mannered. Nonetheless, I have sworn my feal oath to the true king of Cypress and my honor shall not be swayed."

"Many argued that Drusus II was the true king of Cypress and that his cousin was a traitor."

"Do not think to try and win me with that argument. You are as much a usurper as Edmond Turncloak."

Uglu's tone was mild. "I am no king, I am Warden of Cypress."

"A moot point. You hold Cypress illegally in the name of a pretender."

`"Lord Vensic and his friends seem to think differently."

"Vensic is not a lord. He is also a traitor and he will plant a knife in your back."

"I am not certain that I believe you. Who tells someone they hate the whole truth? Folk may lie."

"I am shocked to hear it."

"Indeed? I shall be blunt, Lord Kashing. Despite, or perhaps because of your convictions, you are well-respected. You also serve with my enemies. I am not a man to hold your loyalty against you, but you have been captured. Would it not be possible to yield with honor?"

Kashing spat on the floor. "You are a well-spoken, but that question alone belies the impression you strive to give. You know that I cannot refute my honor; I cannot yield with honor when the circumstances permit it. I will not be party to a usurper gaining the throne.

Uglu was silent for several moments and then he said simply, "I see." He turned towards the door beckoning at Dava as he did so. Before he left he turned back and warned, "As you have not yielded I am obliged to try and extract information from you. The next step is not very pleasant."

"I shall bear it or I shall die."

Uglu inclined his head and swept out of the room. Dava lingered for a moment, casting a questioning glance at the centaur, but Kashing had reverted to his earlier tactic and pretended to be asleep.

No matter. He was quite unimportant, all things considered. So she turned and stepped briskly down the stone passageway and up the stairs. Shortly she stood in the richly decorated throne room. Uglu had already taken the throne, seating himself as was his right. Vensic knelt at his feet.

It was tradition that only the king or the man speaking with the king's voice could be seated in the throne room, but all the same Uglu had had a chair drawn up for her. She sat down, thanking him cordially.

Uglu's tone was still stone and unemotional if a tad swifter. "To business then, we are all gathered."

Vensic smiled modestly. "My dear Lord Warden, as I predicted most of our noble friends would be simply overjoyed to confirm you as Warden of the Cyprian Throne."

Uglu's pale eyes flicked towards him. "But not all of them." It was not a question.

Vensic said with a show of distaste, "There are some few who would rather languish in the dungeons in a misplaced loyalty to that fool, Nicholas."

Uglu stared at Vensic for a moment. "Still, they keep faith."

"If you can call fear faith. They fear Nicholas more than they fear you, my lord."

Uglu, as though ruminating, asked, "Why did so few of the lords join their cause with Nicholas? Why did so many prefer Edmond?"

Vensic's answer was slow in coming. "Nicholas… Nicholas never had a loveable nature my lord. He was bold, honest… but he was always too hard. None loved him. None love him now."

Uglu essentially ignored that. "How many refuse to honor me?"

"A mere seven, Lord Uglu. Would you like their heads?"

"No. Not precisely. Who is the most outspoken among them?"

"Lord Tyrin."

"And the least?"

"Lord Oba."

"Have Tyrin executed and take one of Oba's hands. That should be enough." He paused, then opened his mouth again. Then closed it. Finally he said, "I suppose Tyrin would best make a show. He must be brought before me in court, to die by my word."

"As you command, my lord."

Vensic looked mildly troubled. Uglu bent a long, patient glance at him, waiting for the lord to speak. Finally Vensic said, almost grudgingly, "Despite the number that wish to swear you their feal service… their hearts are not with you. You must be prepared."

Uglu snorted. "I wasn't aware they had hearts to give in the first place. They already sold out their last two lawful kings."

Vensic's tone was a shade cooler as he replied, "Of course, my lord."

Uglu raised a brow at him. "Disapprove of my assessment? I assure you Vensic; people are faithful or faithless in all organizations. These lords appear to be the latter. There are some Iomites that are the same. I am not one of them." Uglu paused heavily and then went on, "Therefore I shall be confirming you in all your titles once again, Warden of the Eastern Isles and Master of the Citadel."

Vensic knelt even lower, if that was possible, inclining his head. "This is a great honor, my lord."

Dava doubted it. Vensic had held these same honors for two kings. It was doubtless the lowest buying price that he was available for. She cleared her throat.

Uglu's pale eyes immediately snapped towards her. "Ah, yes. Lady Dava. You have my gratitude for bringing Lord Kashing before me. You wanted something in return for your support, I believe?"

He had evidently had time to compose himself. Having no taste for such games she attacked baldly, "You know what my requirement is. We should be hammering out the means of doing so. Warderer will be difficult to take unawares."

A faint smile appeared on his face. "King Warderer is still your price, then?" He paused for a deliberate moment and said quietly, "I am not certain that I wish to oblige."

She hissed, "Don't try to play these games with me! Or do you forget the power that I hold? Even now, I could quash you!"

"You could," he agreed mildly. "However, I don't think you will." She opened her mouth furiously, but he continued in the same gentle tone, "You see, I've already made arrangements. Should I die; agents of mine will spread the word of your existence. Even if some few others in league with you do know already, all of Cypress will rise up against a spiriter. The forces of darkness shall fear your power and turn to slay you. The do-gooders of this world will desire to do good." He smiled modestly at her.

She gaped at him in wordless fury. He had duped her, gods be good! No… she corrected herself honestly. She had duped herself; she had underestimated him. Swallowing her anger as best she could she finally croaked, "And what do you want, Lord Uglu?"

He was toying with a dagger. He looked at her, as though in surprise and gave her his characteristically thin smile. "My dear Lady Dava, I intend to restore justice to the lands of Cypress. I shall hear any case, any grievance that my subjects wish to lie before me. Please, present your desire along with your reasoning. I shall be overjoyed to sit in judgment."

Ignoring the helpless anger, she immediately started considering what arguments would be most like to sway him. The very fact that he had not dismissed her out of hand promised a very faint hope that she might still prevail. As she struggled for a diplomatic opening to such a difficult subject, Vensic raised his eyes and stated, "Lord Warden, I must agree with Lady Dava in this issue."

Startled, Dava looked at him as did Uglu. She also saw the slight flash of uncertainty in Uglu's eyes. So he hadn't expected this. Uglu was now the one struggling to frame a reply, but Dava felt a small hiccup of triumph rising in her chest. Uglu needed Vensic's support more than anyone else's. He would have to give in.

Finally Uglu dodged, "I must ask you two to excuse me, I find myself fatigued from the burdens of rule. We shall resume our discussion of new management on the morrow."

As Dava left the room she leaned over asking Vensic, "And what do you get out of supporting me?"

Vensic smiled charmingly at her. "That is a very good question, Lady Dava. Shall we discuss it over a glass of claret?"

---

Earnest looked up as the door to his shared cell opened. Framed in the doorway was a man who looked as though he was wearied by invisible burdens with stooped shoulders, tight skin, and a bad-tempered mouth. The few bits of hair he possessed were of a shocking red in color and he was clad in a battle-worn breast-plate. Eiku.

Earnest laughed crazily. "Our kind patron vishits-" he hiccupped, "Our hubble 'bode."

Eiku muttered, "I detest drunks."

He protested, "I am notsh a drunk." He peered at Eiku as though he were examining a lunatic before cackling, "Three sheets to the wind!" Eiku looked at him with misgiving before directing a quiet question over his shoulder.

"Who allowed the prisoners _wine to drink_?"

There was a shuffling sound in the passage and then the figure of a bulky looking lizardman appeared, standing behind Eiku, but taller. The lizardman muttered, "I… I vas not informed sat sey vere drinking. Please, allow me to correc-"

Eiku's glare was murderous. "Oh, you'll correct the mistake alright. We'll be certain of that." He glanced at the prisoners again, squinted at Krin and asked in surprise, "One of the little girls of Rudo? How much better."

Earnest felt a need to sing, but a hoarse, hacking laugh cut him off. "_Heheheheh!_" Kokichi's voice rose out of the darkness. "Commander Eiku, _heh_, what a pleasure! Perhaps you would like, _heh,_ to hear a tale? I have many, _heh._ Oh once there was a fisherman who caught a goat, _heheh!_ And he said, look here that's no shoat, _heheh_!"

Eiku turned and said something that Earnest couldn't quite catch before sweeping out of the doorway. The lizardman stood there, looking almost shame-faced. Abruptly he kicked Earnest, complaining, "You made me look bad to Master Eiku."

Kokichi's voice became much drier, "_Heh_, you looked bad before we ever met you."

The lizardman's face underwent a frightening transformation from shame to a potently evil rage. "Silence!" he screamed. With a look of maniacal fury he seized Krin and set about to beating her with his heavy claws.

Krin shrieked in pain, trying to twist away. Vankar bellowed out of the darkness, "Leave her alone! Or are you only man enough to beat little girls scum?"

Slit turned a hot gaze in Vankar's direction when a new voice, a voice with a curiously raw quality, cut in. "My dear Lord Slit. Sub-Commander Eiku specifically requested that the prisoners be left intact for Mistress Mishalea's judgment."

Earnest peered at this other man. He was small, grey dressed in tattered clothing. Slit shot this man a glance of outrage, but, curiously backed down. "I vas… sat is… I merely forgot myself. It vill not happen again."

The other man said mildly, "Oh, it's nothing to me. For your own sake though, I should hope that this is the case."

Slit generally glared around the cell before sweeping out. The grey man paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder with a curiously sympathetic expression on his face. He closed the door gently.

As he left, it was as though tension built up even more than it had been before. Earnest said to no one in particular, "And just a little bit of cream."

Vankar's voice rang with exhausted determination. "We must get out of here." There was a pause. It wasn't that surprising really. Nobody had any real reason to endorse the obvious. Vankar finally continued, "I suppose I'll have to think of something."

Earnest opened his mouth to protest when a poisonous realization struck him like a blow.

_I have become Vankar, and him me. _

He might have wept with fury. He would not, could not allow this to happen to him before he died. He despised Vankar. He would not die a drunken dog, fit for nothing but scorn. He would do this last thing if he could, and maybe then, at last he could die in Lord Max's service.

He started, "We'll…" damn, this was awkward! "We'll find a way out together. Mayhaps capitalizing on Krin's…" He gestured vaguely as he searched for the word.

For the first time Krin spoke. Just three words, blank and lifeless sounding. "They killed Brit."

"Brit," he inquired, still a little bit in the pleasant haze of wine. The effect was fast fading, unfortunately. He even thought he could already feel a hang-over coming into existence.

"My… he was my dog."

Kokichi's solemn tone broke the silence, "Little girl, I'm sorry. But, they've done a lot now, haven't they? Cut me, fired Vankar up and turned Earnest into a drunk."

Ignoring how strange it was to hear the old man speak without cackling once, Earnest bit back the automatic retort. It was true. He had become a drunk. Gods be good, how had it come to this? How had he turned from focus, the only thing he had ever really had? Earnest didn't know, anymore, if he had ever been right, but with a sense of foreboding, he knew that he had to try to do at least this last thing. If he didn't then he was lower than Balbazak the Beastly.

---

Nick strode forward, his shoulders set tightly. "Ruce." He didn't have to wait long. The short warrior was before him almost immediately.

"Your Grace. How did the meeting proceed?"

"Well enough, for the nonce." Nick paused his long stride for a moment, trying to shake the feeling that had enveloped him after Lord Max's vicious perception.

_It _was_ justice_, he thought resentfully. _Uncle Edmond was a traitor. _He would have executed his uncle had Edmond not fled with the remains of his Iom supporters. But if it was justice, why did he feel a need to justify it? Why did all others look at him with misgiving for the pronouncement he had set down, regarding his uncle? It wasn't cruelty, it was _law_.

He shook his head and asked harshly, "Did you attend to that little task I set before you?"

Ruce nodded. "Precisely as you commanded, Your Grace. Dawn has promised to meet you within the hour."

"Good." Nick's jaw formed a hard line. "I am the rightful king of Cypress and I _will_ have a voice in this council. Deanna will be my implacable enemy and he must be dealt with in some way or other, but it should be possible to bring the others around."

Ruce looked at Nick apprehensively. He started hesitantly, "Perhaps you would have greater success Your Grace if you offered le-"

Nick looked at him, deeply wounded. _You too Ruce?_ He felt as though he were cracking with sorrow, but his voice was quite controlled as he said, "I will not bow down before them. I have offered Lord Max the total strength that I command, I have helped him rule his troops, aye, and I have offered him loyal advice."

Ruce's eyes were cast downward. He murmured, "Yes, Your Grace."

Nick stared at his dwarven friend in anguish. He wanted so much to know how to reach out to Ruce, how to explain himself. With a sudden raging he thought, _I have always done everything that has been asked of me. Why is respect constantly denied me? It is not cruelty, it is law. Why is justice never enough?_

"Ruce…" The pause lengthened as for once, Nick's poise failed him. He didn't know what to say. "The punishment for treason is death. It is necessary. It is… there can be…"

Ruce shot him a very long, odd glance. "Aye, Your Grace."

Nick turned his attention back to business, or at least tried to turn it away from the horrible turmoil of his thoughts. "Your task will be to sound out some of our new friends. Lowe might be a good starting point. We do need allies, though, only Deanna is implacable. Lord Max is amenable to listening, but his policies are not disposed towards us." His voice was cold. Blank. Stone. _A king's voice. As it must rightly be._

He couldn't focus anymore. Even more than Edmond, he kept reliving the moment of Chu Rao's death. That had been justice. It had been such a brief, passing satisfaction however.

_God's be good, am I becoming as much a despot as my uncle? As Warderer?_

"Go," he croaked. "Leave me to my task." He could not bear Ruce's presence. He could not bear the faint reproach permeating the air, searing at his skin, burning into his soul. Most of all, he could not bear his own poisonous self-doubts. Lord Max had everything. What did he have?

_I still don't know. _

---

"So," Paezorta drawled, "What do you want? I presume you didn't arrange this just so we could chat over cheese and wine."

Eiku chuckled, "Ah, now! We should be friendly with each other. After all these years as colleagues, surely I'm a little more to you than merely the Sub-Commander. I, no longer think of you only as High Captain."

Paezorta looked steadily at him. Eiku didn't waver, gave him another friendly wink and re-filled his goblet. The elf paused, nonplussed. Sipping cautiously at his wine he said, "I congratulate you on your man's recent success in the field. I hear that you took prisoners?"

"Three from the Shining Force itself. One of the girls of Rudo was preserved as well. It has been an excellent turn of events."

"In that case," he surmised, "You've brought me here because you're hoping to use me as an axe in your feud with Lynx."

Eiku's smile flickered. He growled, "I make no secret of my enmity with Lynx."

"Your point being?" Eiku struggled for a reply. Paezorta continued, "I can only presume that your purpose in bringing me here is wrapped up in that sorry business, as I've been given to understand that the Shining Force requires constant attention."

Eiku recovered his composure. "Alright then, I'll be honest. You've never liked me and I've never disliked you." That was a misinterpretation, in fact, but it was one Paezorta saw no purpose in correcting. When looking at Eiku he saw the broken remnants of a great man. Eiku could have been a great man; that Paezorta certainly believed. But bitterness had proven too much for him and Eiku, though intelligent, prudent, and thoroughly sound in judgment, had let his brilliance go to waste.

Sub-Commander Eiku continued briskly, "That's all irrelevant. Lynx does have to be stopped."

Paezorta responded mildly, "That's for Lady Mishalea to say. I approve of my colleague's conduct in this war."

Eiku jabbed, "Do you approve of him fucking Lady Mishalea?"

Paezorta's shoulders shifted slightly. That arrow struck home. That was the one thing that the dark elf had not been able to ignore. Had he been asked, he would of course, have lied and said that he disapproved of the distraction upon Mishalea's attention, or perhaps that he disapproved of the distraction on Lynx's. He would, however, privately admit that it was Mishalea's lack of regard for _him_ that stung.

He replied, "Their… relations are of no concern to us." But Eiku could tell it was a lie. Perhaps it was the pause before speaking, the tightened shoulders, or perhaps it was just Eiku's careful research. Paezorta felt a dull flush rising in his cheeks.

Eiku smiled cuttingly. "Got there before you could, eh?"

That was too much. His hand involuntarily jerked. He managed, "Have you brought me here to practice your barbs? Take the self-righteous note out of them and you could be somewhat good."

Eiku shook his head, clearly savoring the reaction. "Ah, Paezorta. I must admit, I never realized you had such hot blood before. But we're all entitled to a few honest mistakes."

Moving with as much dignity as he could muster Paezorta said, "Well, if you've nothing of interest to tell me then I really ought to be going…"

Before he could make good his escape Eiku pounced again, "I want your support."

Paezorta, more rattled than he would have cared to admit, sniped, "So, we've decided to be frank?"

Eiku said disgustedly, "Don't take your bloody moral high ground. I don't care if you wanted Mishalea for yourself, point is that you don't have her and Lynx is going to end up putting all of us to the sword."

"I shouldn't be surprised if he put you to the sword, insufferable nuisance that you are."

"Good lord man, are you blind?" Eiku lurched to his feet, his breath hot on Paezorta's face. "Don't you see? After taking Mishalea to his bed he's been _checking your power_. He hasn't been taking your orders, not when he disagrees with them. That's only a step along the way to replacing you! He's a… a bloody megalomaniac! A coward! He wants it all, and we've got to deny him!"

Paezorta faltered. It was true enough that Lynx had become more unmanageable. He had, so far, taken Mishalea's lead and not protested, but Eiku's reasoning sounded disturbingly accurate. Eiku screeched, "Don't you see what this means? Joke all you like that I'm offensive, but in order to gain more power he's eventually going to have to have your neck like it or not! And he'll definitely have mine. Together we can stick a knife in his chest before he sticks one in ours!"

The elf swallowed. Eiku was, he told himself, using the same tactics of speed, doubt and shock that he had used on Tao. It should not work.

_But it worked on her._

He shook his head angrily. Seducing her had been work. Clear, focused, skilled work. It had left him feeling cold however. Shaking the uncomfortable thought from his mind he reminded himself; _all that I am I owe to Mistress Mishalea_.

He turned away but Eiku swore angrily, "Damn you! You realize that he killed Brogan just for failing his duty? D'you honestly think that he'll stop short of killing you too? He wants to be High Captain!"

Brogan's death had been a mystery. Would Lynx have killed him for failing his code? Paezorta hung there, wavering.

"NO!" he bellowed before he even realized he had. He turned away, feeling sick.

Eiku roared, "Don't you turn away from me!" Clasping his hand to Paezorta's shoulder, the sub-commander spun the elf back around. "I am offering you a chance, you fool. You should be bloody well grateful!"

"Remove. Your. Hand."

Ignoring that, Eiku rambled on, "It's not just us at stake here. You realize that if we go that means he'll promote _Magus_ of all people? And what of those you call friends, Bangar and Gwaid? He'll take them out too!" Before Paezorta could respond, Eiku sneered with a kind of masterful desperation, "Don't give me anything about how you don't give a damn about them. They're all that's left of your precious brother!"

With a harsh cry, Paezorta jerked back. Not his brother. That was too much. He fled the room at that point, Eiku's voice echoing in his ears, "Report me then! Get it over with! I'd rather die now than wait for Lynx to kill me!"

Paezorta only stopped running when he reached his own quarters. He stood there, gripping a desk until his knuckles turned white from the pressure. He took deep, gasping breaths, trying to bring himself back under control.

Eiku had, he told himself firmly, skewed events. Eiku would have had to. In order for the sub-commander to retain even a tenuous hold on his sanity, Lynx needed to be guilty of some crime.

And yet, what of Brogan's mysterious death? What of Lynx's insubordination? Why had Mishalea taken him to her bed?

He tightened his grip on the table. That was why he felt uncomfortable with Tao, he knew. Lying to her was bad enough, but he had been stripped of his illusions as well. The woman he wanted had never looked on him with desire; indeed, she flaunted her liaison with another man before his very eyes.

_All that I am I owe to Mistress Mishalea._ For a moment he could feel his face crumple in agony. _Mishalea…_

He could not allow desire to make him forget that. He could not allow anything to circumvent that. Not his desire, not Lynx, not Eiku, not sentiment for his brother.

_Damn Pazort,_ he thought with a sudden anger. _If that clot had ever made even the slightest effort to be a brother to me, I wouldn't be in a position where others gave me such grief._

Angry though he was, he knew he would come in a circle. He would adopt an attitude of duty shortly enough. Resentful or not, he was her willing slave. And he owed everything he had, and everything he was to Mishalea.

---

Jarl paced, ruminating aloud. Hans didn't really bother listening to it, most of it the two of them had already been over, and he was more distracted by the girl in his lap anyway.

Jarl muttered under his breath, "Reports of possible reinforcements…"

Hans ignored that as he slid his hand back inside the girl's bodice, accompanying the motion with a good squeeze. She giggled and slid in tighter against him. By this point, Hans was feeling more than a little interest stirring in his loins.

He needed a good woman, but the timing was a little unfortunate. While he didn't mind fondling her, Hans had more than enough dignity to prevent him from stripping a girl naked in public.

_A pity. _

Aloud he said, "What's that? Reinforcements?"

Jarl frowned. Then his face cleared. "Of course. Lord Luke would not have informed you after that altercation at Shade Abby. There are reports of Mishalea's main strength, massing by way of fleet, towards Pao."

Hans choked on his ale, his hand involuntarily tightening on the girl's shapely flesh. "_What_?"

"Aye. Disturbing news. Lord's Luke and Torl are discussing the matter at some length. There's also been news from the rear."

No longer concentrating on the girl, Hans's attention sharpened. Stroking mechanically now he asked, "From Rindo you mean? They still can't spare reinforcements?"

"Amongst other things."

"Other things," he repeated.

Jarl's visage remained troubled. "Aye. Felic Ugan also sent word. Manarina is quite secure, and he demanded reassignment to the field."

"Ugan? I can't say I'm sorry that Otrant appointed him to stay behind. Something odd about that one."

The centaur pointed out with a trace of acerbity in his tone, "He proved himself a loyal and able strategist. I'd be happier with him at our side, thank you."

Hans shrugged. "Very well. Fair point. So… Ugan is complaining behind the lines and Rindo still can't send any forces to join with us?"

"No. Lord Luke is in a bad temper over it."

"I can't say I blame the militia myself." A malicious note crept into Hans's voice. "They bungled it the first time. They were smashed. They've barely got the numbers to even try to put up a defense. Surely Luke can't expect them to send aid." Of all the inner circle of commanders, Hans was the only one who omitted use of Luke's un-official title.

Jarl said abruptly, "You were unwise to cause that scene with Lord Luke. You're not only his bad grace, but the army's as well. They love him."

Hans laughed aloud. "Say what you will, I refuse to lick his bloody arse."

"All the same, you would be well-advised to keep such opinions to yourself. After all, if Lord Luke's plan is successful, Mishalea's domination of Rune will collapse. She'll have to devote all of her resources to fending off the Shining Force."

"I grant you that. _If_ we were coordinating our movements with Max. But we're not, so there's no guarantee we can permanently drive off Mishalea's influence."

Jarl sighed. "Have it your own way." Despite their different natures, the two already shared an enormous respect for each other and had become, almost friends.

Hans softened. "Oh, I admit it's likely enough that the upcoming battle will at least limit Mishalea's options, but…"

"You are still bitter."

Rather than respond, Hans took a gulp of ale, suddenly very aware of the girl's shapely and pleasantly large breast filling his hand. He asked, "Any idea who's commanding Mishalea's fleet?"

Jarl said dryly, "We haven't gotten that much warning. At a guess however, if she's responding to us as a genuine threat, wouldn't she send one of his elite commanders? Lynx, from what I have heard, would be a natural choice. Perhaps the High Captain."

"I don't think she'd send Paezorta. He's quite an adequate warrior, but he doesn't have much a reputation for the field. If she really wanted to crush us, wouldn't she send the best?"

Jarl considered for a long moment. "But who knows what Mishalea might consider the best? Her plans are subtle."

"Ah, well. Suppose we'll find out." Hans paused and asked, "No word from Guardiana?"

Jarl opened his mouth, and then shut it.

"Tell me."

Finally he said. "Lord Ward has sent word, and an hour ago, a message from Alterone confirmed it."

"What?"

Jarl said formally, "I regret to inform you that King Regis I of Alterone has met with an unfortunate demise."

"_Regis_? He's barely been king for a fortnight! How?"

"Both messages concur that His Grace fell unexpectedly ill and that he perished after falling from his horse."

"And this leaves Alterone in…?"

"Complete disarray." Jarl dispassionately summed up the scenario. "With the death of Regis, the royal line of Alterone is extinct. Furthermore, Torl and Haiden are both with us, the only two who might prove capable and honest enough to run the kingdom."

"And what are we doing about this?"

"General Torl drafted a reply effectively inviting Lord Ward to temporarily claim the city in Torl's own name. He included a number of stipulations to make sure that Ward could not do simply as he pleased with the city. This was all an attempt to stop any of the grasping aristocrats from claiming the throne. Apparently General Torl doesn't like them."

"Amazing." Hans stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So Ward benefits by this… Do you suppose he might try to squeeze more from Alterone? If Torl's not there, then he can lend his support to a suitable noble."

Jarl replied slowly. "I don't know. I would not say that Lord Ward is a man without honor, but…" He shrugged helplessly. "A different kind of honor I suppose."

"In other words," Hans surmised, "there's quarrel amongst the mages, a lack of support from Rindo, possible upheaval in Alterone, and an enemy army heading for Pao?"

Jarl considered. "Yes, I should say that is the case."

The door opened. Hans turned, and watched as Luke came into the room, red-faced, with a stoop-shouldered man following him.

Luke asked quietly, "And what, pray, are the two of you doing, discussing matters of policy in the hearing of a…" he glanced at the girl as though searching for the right word, jutted his jaw, and finally settled on, "trollop?"

Hans slowly rose to his feet, ignoring the squeal of protest from the girl. He smiled, "So, the little Lord Luke makes his appearance at last."

Luke ignored that and hissed, "What the hell were you thinking! Conversing freely over military policies in a public setting? Or perhaps I should ask what you were thinking _with_? You keep all of your brains in your cock, don't you?"

"And who," countered Hans, "bought you your first whore?"

"This is different," bellowed Luke. "We're no longer the boys we were! I'm not unaware of your dissatisfactions Hans; I have a man's needs too." He paused and said in a more moderate tone of voice, "And perhaps I was unfair with you over Alterone. I suppose you really couldn't have prevented it. But this pointless wrangling with me! That careless shot you took at Zocc! I had that situation well in hand."

"It didn't look like it to me. Were you planning to talk until he died of hunger?"

"That's not the point! You've been useful to me on this campaign, and you're my friend." Luke ran a hand through his hair. "But it's different when you're a leader. I never thought…" He lapsed into silence. Finally he sighed, "It was a dreadful risk you took with poor old Torasu. Your success depended on luck. But, I suppose I should thank you for bringing Alain to heel."

Jarl began with a trace of warmth in his voice, "My son-"

"Is young," Luke cut him off.

Jarl snorted. "You're not even a decade older than him."

"War aged me quickly, Lord Commander."

Jarl's mouth twisted. '"Lord Commander.' As you say."

The stoop-shouldered man piped up, "Here, now young missy, you best be getting' along." He paused, squinted at the girl and asked, "And who the devil might you be?"

She squeaked, "I'm… I'm Jo- I'm the alchemist's niece."

"Jon? Odd cove." The man blinked several times. "Strange, he had a sister? Oh yes, he did, didn't he. Ah. Well. Run along now, run along." The girl fled with as much dignity as she could manage.

Hans said dryly, "She'll probably regret that she didn't think to lace her bodice up in a moment."

The stoop-shouldered man swaggered over until he stood in front of Hans. He was completely bald and had a bushy black beard. "Seems to me," he roared, "that what a man starts he should finish! Seems to me, if you're concerned, you oughta laced up that bodice yourself. 'Specially as it seems to me, that you're the blackguard who unlaced it!"

Hans's mouth hung open for a moment before he managed, "Seems to me, that you could do with a drink."

There was a long pause, and then the other man burst into howls of laughter. "Oh,hoho,hahahaha!" He shrieked in a high-pitched laugh and finally gasped, "Look… look on the shrimp's face!"

"Shrimp? I'm taller than you are." He looked at the man with something between interest and offense.

Plopping down into the chair, the stoop-shouldered man gave a final belly laugh and said, "Any man who can make a face like that is friend o' me. A drink you said? Well, by the gods let's drink on it!" He turned, bent over the counter, rummaged around for about a minute, and produced a bottle of plum brandy.

Before Hans could start to ask, the man started to fill the glasses and winked at him. "Name's Viktor. Round these parts, while ole Zylo's off, I'm somethin' of the boss here. Quarry worker. Actually, I do most of fightin' and organizing. Those scum can't climb too good when boulders and rocks are falling on 'em. Me pick takes care of any of the speedy little buggers too."

Luke broke in, "Viktor's pledged support to us." He turned, as though speaking only to Jarl. "Speed is the key. We can't wait any longer for Rindo, and, though I have no wish for Alterone to fall into chaos, we simply can't commit back there. If we reach Pao before Mishalea's reinforcements…"

"Then we can be established on an open area with a battle strategy and optimum strength before the fleet lands," finished Jarl. "That's what I would do. But, if Mishalea's sent anyone good, then surely they know that we'll be coming."

"It depends." Luke tapped his cheek. "If they're aware that Alterone fell, then yes, I'd agree. One way or another, however, speed is the only thing we have to rely on."

Hans got to his feet, quaffing his brandy as he did so. "Got everything plotted out then? When do we leave?"

"On the hour." Luke stepped out of the door, and paused, half-way through the frame. "And Hans?"

He felt his stomach knot. He could already sense it upon the air.

Luke cleared his throat, "I'm…" He broke off and tried again. "I'm… that is, try not to make anymore mistakes."

---

Mishalea's head ached. Without bothering to be subtle she said, "I presume that you realize I know you've contacted Zeon?"

"Of course." Gepple bowed low.

"And you tell him just enough to have his trust so you can report to me?"

"Naturally."

"And you presume that I'm such a halfwit that I'll believe you?"

"I wouldn't go that far, great lady. Certainly not a complete halfwit." He shook his head. "Never that."

"Your humor is not terribly amusing. What do you want?"

Gepple started to open his mouth, but whatever he would have said, Mishalea never found out. From the doorway a voice bellowed in outrage, "BITCH!"

Mishalea's brows rose with her gaze, as she peered forward expectantly. Cold as ice she replied, "King Zeon. To what do I owe the honor of this visit, pray?"

The King of the Devils stumbled forward, holding her gaze. "What've done with that horny little Eiku?"

"Beg pardon?"

He was red-faced, sweating, swaying in place, and thoroughly incoherent. "Know talking 'bout! 'leven deer! Dead!"

"You're drunk."

Abruptly he giggled, "How's your mama?" Next he groaned. After making a sufficiently grotesque face, he collapsed. Geshp sidled in the doorway, stepping delicately around the body.

He grimaced, "You would not believe, how much alcohol it took to achieve that result."

Mishalea stared at Geshp with misgiving. "How did you even get him to start drinking? He may not be all that intelligent… but he's hardly _stupid_."

"You would not believe me if I told you that either." Geshp seated himself and continued, "Suffice to say that it was merely a matter of playing him. He has always been a man of passions."

Mishalea wasn't certain that she believed Geshp, but she ignored that for the moment and asked, "What was that about?"

Geshp clucked his tongue sadly. "What a treacherous world we live in. Disgraceful. I took to King Zeon the regrettable report that eleven of our soldiers had been found, slaughtered. Oh yes," he went on theatrically, shaking his head, "A great tragedy to be sure. Upon hearing this, King Zeon raged for about an hour, drinking anything he could get his hands on. He kept asking me the most hurtful questions, but lamentably I knew nothing about the incident. Quite obviously though," he smirked at her, "he thought that _you_ might."

Mishalea paused, trying to process this new development to fit in with her plans. If Geshp had turned Zeon to drunkenness, that was hardly a bad thing from Mishalea's point of view. Indeed, it might be very good.

"So," she mused aloud, "Am I to take this… as a token of your esteem?"

"King Zeon has," he admitted, "grown increasingly volatile. While I don't believe he's started watching your every move, I thought that his current state of incapacitation might make it easier for us to speak privately."

"I see." She flicked her forefinger imperiously. Zeon's body vanished, a teleportation spell. Geshp's smile remained steady. So. He had arranged the show in good faith.

Feeling short on patience she said, "Very well. I'll take this to mean, that, being in an uncertain state of betrayal is chaffing at you. You're wondering how quickly we can kill him off, or if it might be worth it to tell him you can sell me out."

"Oh madam, you make me sound so heartless. I wouldn't put it like that."

Having no taste for these little games under the current circumstances, she asked, "Aren't you? What do you want, Geshp?"

He offered a tight, plump smile. "Well, actually, amongst other news I bring to you, Odd-Eye's returned."

Her eye-brows shot up. "And?"

"He has been interfering in your plans my dear. Indeed, he arranged for an attempt on the life of General Cameela."

Her breath stopped short for a moment. "So…" An assassination. Very clever. She asked sharply, "How do you know all of this?"

Geshp had picked up a goblet and was polishing it in a debonair fashion. "My dear lady, I happen to know because I managed to secure her life, although, lamentably I wasn't swift enough to prevent the jaws of the trap from closing on her. I should imagine you'll get word from the perimeter shortly."

Mishalea sat very still. An entire plot gone straight past her? It was true that Odd-Eye was a subtle player, and one who had been impossible to locate… All the same, Geshp's version of events was slightly odd. He didn't need to save her scheme for the perimeter to curry favor with her, and he hated Cameela. Indeed, killing her might have been the very way to insure that Odd-Eye would be forced to the front lines.

Geshp, in the meanwhile, rambled on, "At any rate, I do believe that all of this should more than prove my immense value to you. I have, in fact, devised a title for myself. High Councilor. After all, you have a High Captain, a High Commander. Why not a High Councilor so that you have equal representation? And, after all, it would allow me to be equal to your dear Lynx. Have you heard from Lynx recently?"

"High Councilor it shall be then." She didn't really care what Geshp called himself. She would have him executed as soon as she had the excuse and the convenience to do so. Unfortunately, it was more expedient to allow him to live for quite some time. A pity. Ignoring his impertinence, she changed the subject, "The means with which to take care of Zeon are in place. The important factor is the time. Do you have anything else?"

"Well, nothing all that specific," he admitted.

"Then leave me." He left, bowing, but she fancied that he was a trifle offended. Moments later, a lean, hard-faced man sidled in the door. His face bore a long, streaking scar. He bowed and asked in a quiet voice, "Do I stand before the Lady of Darkness?"

"You do."

He bowed again and replied, "I bear a message from my superior, Lord Solo. Lord Solo begs me to inform you that he is ready to begin the maintenance of the network against the Shining Force whenever the order is given."

Mishalea asked, "You would be Harkan?"

He paused, then nodded reluctantly. She nodded in return and said imperiously, "You may go. You have my thanks." He left.

As he did so, Mishalea, not even bothering to raise her voice said, "Gepple?"

"Yes?" The voice that sounded like rotting meat being dragged in the dirt emanated from behind the statue of Darksol, as Mishalea had expected it would.

"Keep an eye on Bangar would you? And Geshp."

"But of course."

Mishalea didn't bother to speak again. She didn't need to. All of her plans would have to be temporarily set aside in the advent of the Shining Force's destruction. The moment Cameela contacted her she would have to be ready. Slit had already sent word, so Cameela's confirmation would be the last. Only after this most important of events could she turn her attention to Eiku's prisoners, to Warderer's plotting, to Zeon's imminent demise. The immediate future would, however, demand the strength of all her powers.


	31. Chapter 31: Blockade

Chapter 31:

Blockade

"It's very good of you to see me."

"As you say, Your Grace." Dawn's tone was free of inflexion, expressionless. Her face might have been hewn of rock, it was not cold, but it was similarly still giving nothing and asking nothing.

Nicholas had regained his poise in the silent hour he had had with himself, or, at least some of it. He asked cordially, "You're well I hope?"

"Everything is most satisfactory, Your Grace."

Once, not so very long ago, such a clear, dutiful response and attitude would have pleased him. Now he was no longer certain. He wasn't even certain if he knew what he wanted anymore.

Instinctively shying away from the thought he prompted, "And?"

Dawn spoke in an unbroken monotone. "Your Grace, I would like to first say that I had already resolved to do what you asked of me shortly before the advent of the coup. Indeed, it is part of who I am to watch things. Watching things is what I do. I have watched and waited, and all is in hand. There is really nothing to talk about."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Surely there must be something or other you can tell me. How do you find your compatriots?"

"Much the same as I have always found them, Your Grace."

"Be so kind as to indulge my curiosity. You haven't encountered _any_… small difficulties?"

Dawn replied in the same monotone, "Eric, I will admit, is a bit difficult to handle. He fights well enough, but is inclined to be rude, insubordinate, and rants at great length about the aristocracy." She lapsed into silence.

Nick felt his temper starting to rise, but he held it in check. "So, you're essentially telling me that Eric is irresponsible and that everything else is unremarkable?"

"There is truly little that bears reporting, Your Grace."

He stifled his impatience. "Very well. You must know why I called you here. What of Deanna?"

Dawn arched an eye-brow at him. "It may be that Deanna has not been perfectly candid with us. But I can find no fault in him, and I assure you, I have watched him quite closely. I would say that your fears in that direction seem to be unfounded."

Nick's jaw set itself sharply. He replied icily, "A good many things may be of interest yet, Lady Dawn. And I do not make a habit of indulging curiosity on matters of policy."

Her voice remained the same monotone as before. "Of course, Your Grace. Pray pardon my insolence."

Nicholas felt himself wanting to scream at her compliant courtesy. On impulse he blurted out, "Why have you chosen to follow me, Dawn?"

For the first time her mask of stone flickered. She looked very slightly surprised. "Your Grace?"

He barely heard her. Prince Nicholas was remembering his childhood. He knew from the stories that other children had told him that he had never had a father; at least not in the sense of a childhood.

Nor had he ever been welcome amongst the other children when his tutors had finished with him. He still remembered the one time he had been bold enough to try and tag along with them. The eldest boy had burst into laughter and mocked him, Nick no longer recalled how. All he knew was that in the end, their words had driven him to a rage and he had soundly thrashed this boy, a boy half his size.

By the time it was over, he was horrified. There had been a good deal of blood, and the boy had just lain there, _twitching_. He fled, sobbing hysterically to his grandfather's sickbed. It was the only memory he had of King Gadis, although, by that point his father was the true king, Gadis was so ill.

When King Nicholas I had found out, he had been outraged, stern and horribly, horribly just. Gadis had treated him with the indulgence of old age, but in the end King Nicholas I had his word in the matter. The details of that confrontation, traumatizing though they had been, kept slipping away from Nick's memory as well.

What he remembered most vividly was the way Edmond had laughed the situation off. He had addressed Nick the day before Gadis passed away, that same day, after King Nicholas had left, "Nick m'boy. Take heed of this; there's nothing much to be concerned about. A strong king acts boldly."

He thought resentfully, _A strong king acts according to law._ He had been what then? Four? Five? And what was he now?

He knew in his heart, what Dawn's response would be. She had followed him because he was king. Nobody wanted to follow him. Only some few did, because he was king. And yet, _was_ he king?

In Cypress he had learned duty, justice, and law. He had treated everybody equally, not harshly, but according to the tenants of duty, honor, and justice. And yet, nobody had been willing to follow, in the last years of Father's reign, when Edmond instigated the War of the Usurper. Nobody had ever followed him… but Edmond. Edmond had risked much, made gambits and they had mostly paid off. Nick could hear his uncle now, that treacherous whispering voice.

_A strong king acts boldly._

Even when he had managed to defeat his uncle, it had been Father who kept Cypress together. Father was the glue that had kept things peaceful for a fortnight. But for himself… to be sure there had been some few who had been loyal to him. Gyan, Kashing, Sarah.

He couldn't concentrate anymore. He couldn't keep this up, not with these people. The Shining Force was all he had left. Uglu ruled with an iron fist from Cypress Castle. Gyan and the others would fight to the end, but there was the ever pressing matter of the traitor.

And, even with the Shining Force, could he return to Cypress? The nobles had almost all been willing to follow Edmond and Edmond had courted Iom. Would it really be that different for them to back an Iomite player, with or without a member of the royal family? Nick certainly hadn't forgotten all of those lords who had fought against him. And they knew it. Would they make a gamble, toss the dice and hope that Uglu would not turn out to be a despot?

And there was Dava. The spiriter. She who had murdered Father…

Nick knew that he had options before him. Cross-roads of a sort… But to go forward? Backward? To veer off to the side? He didn't know.

Abruptly he became aware of Dawn patiently waiting for him. He felt weak, nervous. He managed, "You were saying?"

"Relatively little, Your Grace."

Was that a hint of reproach in her voice? Nick stirred to anger. What had she to reproach him with? What had _anybody_ to reproach him with? He had done nothing that was not according the law. He had no need to back down.

His jaw set itself. He _would _not back down. He was an honest man and a just king. By what right did Deanna presume to judge him? _By what right_?

_Love_, he thought disgustedly. _Love is nothing. I am not a cruel man. I am a just one. _

He would pay no heed to the reproach of his colleagues. His self-doubt was groundless. He had nothing to reproach himself for, his conscience remained intact.

His confidence at least momentarily restored, he commanded, "You shall continue to watch Deanna. If not for the law that compels you to obey your king, then for your friendship with Natasha. You will report anything, anything at all, any minor discrepancies to me."

Dawn's cool eyes studied him, and then she inclined her head politely before taking leave of her liege. Nick sat there, his leonine features composed. It had been a near thing, but he had realized the stakes. He would attend to justice as he always had, and he would do as he must. The rest would attend to itself.

---

He ached. It was dark. But most of all, he was thirsty. Cracking his eyes open he managed to croak, "Water."

A deep chuckle answered him. "I see you've decided not to die after all."

His mind a dizzied blur, he begged, "Water."

"Actually," the voice went on affably, "just at the moment I'm trying to decide if it will benefit me more to kill you and pretend that you died of natural causes, or to heroically tend to your first conscious weaknesses."

Gods be good, he didn't have the strength for this. "Please."

The voice chuckled again. "Fortunately for you, I like to think of myself as a humanitarian god. Try to wrap your mind around that one while I get you your damn drink."

Arthur's breathing subsided. He tried to force his eyes open a little further, at the moment the world was one of vaguely blurred shapes and values. As if from no where a damp cloth slapped his face. He gasped, and then, having gotten over the first shock, relaxed in the cool comfort.

When the cloth had finished, he found that he could see a little better. He squinted, not quite sure what to make of his companion. "Gong?"

"Yes. Lowe's the one that patched you up though."

"Lowe?"

"Yes, Lowe. You might remember him if you try hard enough. Small fellow with the blue hair who's a healer."

"Wha- what about," he coughed weakly as Gong offered him some water. "Killing me?"

"Oh that. Well. As I say. I like to think of myself as a humanitarian god. Wouldn't do to be killing you in that light, no matter how appealing the notion might be."

Arthur tried hard to ignore the ache that had set into his body, and his head. He stared at Gong and asked blankly, "_What_?"

The monk paid that no mind and continued cheerfully, "You have quite a familiar profile you know. Or, I should say, familiar to some. Hasn't been that well-known in the world for nearly fifty years now. I suppose he must've missed a cousin or two."

Arthur frowned. Was he, perhaps dreaming? But if he was dreaming, why the hell would Gong represent anything?

He must've been making some sort of face as he thought because Gong abruptly roared with laughter. "I wouldn't expect you yourself to know that one. All traces of that business have been dead for about forty years." His laughter subsided to a chuckle. "Oh yes, the dwarf was quite thorough."

Arthur felt his wits slowly returning to him. "Dwarf? What about a profile?"

Gong smiled. "I don't suppose you would ever have heard of Highland? No? Well, can't say I'm surprised. About fifty years ago Highland was wiped out. No survivors. Nobody knows how it happened, or why. Interest subsided after a while. To be sure, there are some few who might know what went on there. Otrant, for example."

"What the _hell_ does this Highland place have to do with anything?"

"You asked."

Arthur wanted to scream at the maddeningly oblique answer. Abruptly he remembered and sat up in a panic. He gasped, "Alterone! I've got to-"

Gong interrupted him, "Don't bother. Alterone's liberated."

His face paled. "How long have I been…?"

"You've been incapacitated for just over two weeks."

"Two weeks." His voice was numb.

"A bit shocking, eh? Ah well, these things happen. Rest assured, Magus broke a few heads, but didn't manage much more than that. A lot's happened while you've been out." Gong grinned insultingly at him, "Diane's moved on for one."

Arthur flushed abruptly. "How d'you-"

"You are not, you know, the most discreet of persons. And anyway, I know things. Knowing is the nature of my service. Did you know, for example, that Domingo's in love with Anri?" Arthur looked blankly at him. "I'll wager not many knew that one. Possible of course that Jogurt figured it out, but Jogurt's dead."

Arthur immediately felt sick. "Jogurt…"

"Yes." Gong's smile was cold. "You've been out of things for a long time."

_Two weeks… Jogurt…_ He elbowed himself up into a slightly more comfortable position. "What's… what's been going on?"

"Oh lots of things. I suppose you're referring to the state of the war? Well, the news is all mixed, but when hasn't it been? Fact of the matter is we're stretched damn thin at the moment. On the other hand, when Max got your warning about Alterone he sent Luke, Hans and a couple of others to see what they could do about it. Smashed Magus pretty easily and formed up with the Guardiana Army and others. Forged onward. Something to do with 'freeing Rune' as I believe Luke put it. Oh, and royal line of Alterone's been extinguished." He looked keenly at the golden-haired centaur. "Got all that?"

Arthur's mind was fairly clear by this point. He frowned, a bit thrown as he considered some of the things that Gong had said. That business he had alluded to, about Highland, whatever that was was more than passing queer. And as for his reference to 'the dwarf' well there were lots of dwarves. And why should any of this matter to him in the first place? And what about knowing things? Since when had Gong been important for knowing things?

The monk's eyes were fixed on him. Arthur shifted uncomfortably as he muttered, "Well er… thanks. For the water."

Gong's mouth was grave, but his eyes were bright with amusement. "Is that all for the moment?"

"Perhaps I could speak with Lord Max?"

"Lord Max is otherwise engaged. I'll convey the message to him, however."

Still not sure what to make of the situation, Arthur smoothed his hair and laid his head back down, pretending to sleep. He rather fancied that Gong was not deceived.

---

Tao stood, staring out over the lake again, still consumed by her impotent rage. Was this, she wondered, where she had first encountered Paezorta? It still brought a flush to her cheeks to remember their passionate love-making.

_Max…_

With anger she brushed off the sorrow. She owed Max nothing. She had offered him chance, after chance, after chance. Paezorta was a good man, not unskilled as a lover, and he offered a hope of peace. Why cause greater suffering, greater despair, more wreckage, more pointless death and maiming to satisfy Max's arrogance?

She could not permit any feelings of lingering affection for her comrades to cloud her judgment. She realized now, how the signs had always been there. It was all a matter of maps to Max, battle strategies. He had never considered the devastation that he caused.

Although it made her heart bleed to think of the deaths of her friends, logic dictated that as long as they called for war, even greater pointless death would follow. Could she in all conscience stand aside and do nothing? If the Shining Force stopped pushing conflict then Paezorta could sue for peace… Start the healing process.

She would have to cut herself off from the others, or the strength to do what must be done might leave her. It was then that she thought of Guntz, wounded so horribly, struggling to breath. Guntz had always been kind to her. She felt ashamed.

_There is nothing in that. What can I do? The lives of a few for the lives of millions?_

Even after she had lain with Paezorta, she had held out. She remembered telling him, "I won't sell him out. I won't sell any of them out."

Slowly, grudgingly she had come to realize that that had been arrogance speaking. Who was she to dictate the lives of millions? All the same… _Not to Mishalea. I won't sell anybody out to that bloody bitch. She's to blame too. _

Tao didn't doubt that Paezorta was sincere, but Mishalea… she was playing the slaughter for all she was worth, doubtless hoping to end her feud with the other factions of darkness.

Tears stung her eyes. She didn't _want_ to betray any of them, not even Max or Anri much as they deserved it. But, she wouldn't really be betraying anybody. It was a foregone conclusion. Nobody could resist Mishalea and win. Besides, if she did this, her influence would be strong. Paezorta's influence was strong. Together they could intervene on the behalf of at least some of the others.

The council would doubtlessly have to be executed. Their faces swam before Tao's eyes. Silently she gave them up, Mae who was so cold… that unknown man, Ian…. Prince Nicholas, Anri, Hanzou, Deanna…

_Not Lowe. Gods be good, please don't make me do this to Lowe. _

That was a misrepresentation of the situation though. It was Max who had done this to Lowe. Not her. She shook her head sadly. Max… why had she never realized how much he loved blood? It was his fault, not hers, not really. He would gladly stick a knife into a few of his friends if it would fuel his ambition. They were all just chess pieces to him.

She almost felt a little sorry for Anri. Doubtless his interest in her was purely economic.

A voice interrupted her thoughts, "Oh, ah sorry. Didn't realize you were…"

She turned and looked. A bright eager face gazed back at her with copper, wind-swept, and rather untidy hair. Awkwardly cramming a book back into place under his right arm, Hawel crooked his left out of his robes and smiled, "How d'you do? We haven't officially met I think. Tao, isn't it?"

She nodded mechanically. He seemed a likable young fellow. But her only choice was to be distant. If she was not all might come to nothing. What was one likeable young mage against the masses in her hands?

"Yes," was all she said.

Hawel looked around a little turning his gaze back to the lake. "Very peaceful looking. You're, ah, that is you specialize in fire magic don't you?"

Against her better judgment, Tao smiled. There was something infectious about his eager geniality. "Yes," she repeated.

He grinned. "So do I. Well. Sort of. Sonette says that I specialize in reading boring books, but what does she know?"

Tao couldn't stop herself. "Sonette?"

"Elven archer. You must've seen her with Ian."

Tao simply nodded. Hawel gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze as he continued blithely, "I rather thought this would be a good spot to come, but as I say I didn't-"

Another voice cut him off. "My apologies. I did not mean to intrude."

Tao knew _that_ voice. She arched a brow, "Musashi?"

The samurai bowed stiffly, walked some little distance forward and contemplated the water gravely. Hawel murmured, "It looks serious, sir."

Musashi spoke, almost to himself. "Indeed I have something very troubling to think on. I had not wanted to… but the ninja. Is that the reason? The suffering is appalling." He lapsed into silence for some few moments. "What does one do at such a juncture? Loyalty… to what? Is loyalty to honor rooted in a job or to the moral right?"

Tao started. His thoughts sounded much as her own had only a few days ago. What had brought on his sudden crisis of faith?

Yet another voice interrupted, "Ah, ah, ah! An' here's where I thought I might find yer. But what's this? Little Hawel? What're you doin' 'ere?"

Hawel's reply was cool. "I might ask you the same question Ridion."

The dwarf chortled loudly, "Ohohoho, indeed ye might! Although a more courteous answer might be in order fer an elder."

Hawel did not deign to reply. Tao noticed that Musashi had gone rigid. Ridion waited politely for some moments, and when nobody else spoke he began again.

"Seems ter me, that yer all havin' very serious thoughts. Well, I got me a tale 'bout serious thoughts. Y'see…" It was a long rambling story about Ridion meeting some fellow in a bar with a lot of, "So I sez, or, so he sez to me," in it. Finally the dwarf started wrapping up. "So there I was, flabbergasted. I sez, 'wha, you mean we're both for the fall o' sufferin'? Both in the way o' doin' 'stead o' talkin' the good talk?' An' he sez to me, 'Aye. Where'd you learn it from?' So I sez to him, 'Oh a long time back. Funny bloke he was. Conversation much like this 'un, and I only got one glimpse at 'is face, not a proper one. Cosseted in a hood, he were, but wi' a white cloak on. Eye was unusual too, a kind o' blue."'

Ridion paused for breath while Tao stood completely still at the casually dropped hint. Did he know about her? He must, unless it was for someone else's benefit, but who…? Another voice interjected sharply, "And what have you, to quote your own tale, been doing in the way of doing instead of talking the good talk?"

Tao glanced sharply at Hanzou. The ninja's eye was particularly cold. The dwarf howled with laughter. "You been followin' me 'round fer quite a while now, ain't you?"

Hanzou's voice took on a chilled tone. "Shocking as you may find this, the world is not about you or your benefit, dwarf."

Ridion chuckled, but his voice responded by taking on an edge. "Oho, dwarf is it?"

Hanzou shrugged. "That's what you are, isn't it? A bitter, stunted little man?"

Musashi abruptly turned away from the water and bellowed, "_Enough_!" He turned a hot glare upon the ninja. "If you have an accusation to make, then make it, damn you. Or is this the sort of poison you whisper in Lord Max's ear? The necessities and-"

Hanzou remained calm. "What I have for the giving is only available to those of the asking. How can I, in all conscience, deny a man…" he paused and his glance slid over Tao, "or a woman free choice?"

"Conscience? You would speak to me about conscience? Speak to the _dead_ about your bloody conscience!"

A note of warmth crept into Hanzou's voice. "And you would presume to speak for how many people? You know best for how many people? You would impugn the free will of how many others in your self-righteous moral authority?"

Musashi roared in anger, "Don't you speak like that to me! You call my honor and concern a weakness? How many have you left dead and shrugged off as necessity? How many do your tenants of free will leave dead because you would not help?"

Hanzou responded to Musashi's fire with ice. "If my philosophy of free will is no more than a paper shield I have created to avoid conscience, then your own stance can be nothing more than dangerous romantic rhetoric. Who are you to speak for so many? How can you presume to know the better?"

Ridion broke in, "Yer advocatin' fer sufferin', dog!"

Tao raised a questioning brow. She might have paid more attention to Ridion's odd phrasing, but she was distracted by the look on Hanzou's face. As he turned to face the dwarf, his normally guarded expression revealed both distrust and dislike.

The ninja's voice was almost too soft to be heard. "You are dangerous." He shook his head and abruptly the anger and tension left him. His eyes slowly traveled over the group, heavy with sorrow. Hawel stood quite still, his face blank. The young mage hugged his book tight against his chest and broke the silence.

"My apologies." With that he stepped off, shooting one angry glance back at Ridion. Hanzou sighed.

His voice was mournful now. "I regret that I cannot… just please remember this; what I have to give is available to all those that ask." His eyes were fixated on her and his voice took on a slightly more urgent note, "We have never really talked you and me. I fear this may have been the last time we will come close. Mayhaps we will meet again, in a place where no shadows fall."

The ninja turned away and walked off, slowly. The other two stood there silently for what must have been minutes. Abruptly Musashi moved. "_Damn_ Hanzou!" He too started to leave. "And damn you dwarf." His voice was grief-stricken.

Tao turned away, desperate to retreat to the solitude of her own thoughts. But Ridion was not moving. Finally she turned in exasperation, "Well? What are you waiting for? What do you want?"

Ridion stroked his beard, a crafty expression on his face. "Well as t' that…" he started to laugh. "I thought we might be discussin' purple eyes."

---

Cellion sat uncomfortably in his chair. Lord Eiku seemed to be in a pensive mood. He abruptly shrugged. "Well things aren't going too badly. I'm not sure about Paezorta, but I definitely shook him up a bit. Still might go either way. And I'll have Tarbeck see to the prisoners. What is it?"

The officer shifted, ill at ease. He started, "Well you see sir…" he paused and regretfully concluded that there was no delicate way to put it. "That is, Lady Mishalea's heard from the perimeter. From General Cameela."

Eiku exploded out of his chair. "What?"

Cellion replied wearily, "I'm afraid so, sir."

All of the color drained out of Eiku's face. He started to pace about agitatedly. "What did she have to say?"

"Only that she was ready to act when ordered, sir."

Eiku considered aloud. "Hmm… this is a most unsettling turn of events. Shame that Lynx's gone. We can't pin it on him."

Cellion frowned. "I don't know sir. Wouldn't she be more likely to make an accusation immediately if she had one to make?"

"Not necessarily. You do, however, touch a good point. She may not know. If we could spin that to our advantage…" Eiku ruminated, "She'll want somebody's blood over this one and Lynx isn't here to take the blame. Magus isn't an option either, the Vandal's too well-protected." He paused, clearly trying to think of a suitable scapegoat.

After several moments he slammed his hand down on his desk, swearing loudly. "This has come at a bad time. With Slit gone…" His eyes narrowed. "Maybe that's the point."

"Sir?"

"Damn you, don't you see? What if that's what the thrice-dammed bitch is aiming at? She comes out of her scuffle, somehow traces it back here and goes along with Mishalea's plans because it gives her a shot at Slit? That wouldn't only weaken us; it would damage Lady Mishalea too."

Cellion considered. At last he said dubiously, "I suppose so sir. General Cameela, however, has never struck me as a particularly imaginative person. With all due respect sir, we didn't leave anything to trace. If she is alive and hasn't made an accusation then all of our men must be dead. So if she is aiming at subterfuge, she would need a subtle backer."

Eiku groused, "Anyway, how the hell did she get out of that one? Our men were picked for their skill in the area of assassination. Even if she fought them off, she'd be badly wounded. So she would have to have a savior." He frowned, gulped some wine and abruptly hissed, "Dammit!"

Cellion asked politely, "Sir?"

Eiku's response was dark. "Why can't it be Warderer? It's got his stinking touch all over it. When he plays games of subterfuge, not even Lady Mishalea can always keep up with him. And this benefits him massively. If he saves Cameela, then she owes him. He steals one of Zeon's generals, don't you see? And he can replace Barbara now that she's crippled. At the same time, bumping off Slit wins him a sly one over us. Besides, the more chaos the better for him. And there are those soldiers of Zeon that were massacred. He easily could have engineered that."

Cellion frowned, shifting in his chair. It was not a comfortable thought. Warderer had always been a sly opponent, and this would be a brilliant stroke. He argued weakly, "We left no trace sir…"

Eiku snapped, "He damn well might have scryed us and you know it." The sub-commander muttered, "We don't have any friends to call on this one either…" He chuckled weakly. "At least Lynx is gone. I can think properly."

After some moments of silence he ventured, "What about that one that Slit picked up? You know funny-looking mage?"

Cellion paused. He couldn't remember the name. "The one the Supreme General declared as liaison? I suppose we could bring him into the loop…"

Eiku stood imperiously. "I see little choice. We need an ally to get a message out there quickly."

Cellion bowed his head respectfully. "Yes sir. I'll attend to it at once."

"No. I'll do it. You and Tarbeck go work on the prisoners. Breaking them has just become much more imperative."

---

"What's the full count of the army?"

Number One, a title he had devised for himself, growled, "Five thousand lancers. Three thousand cavalry and two thousand archers. Rest are an assortment of footmen and various so-called specialists about ten thousand strong. That's not including our support from the mages, which is barely over eight hundred."

Lynx nodded politely. "So we have approximately twenty-one thousand men at our disposal?"

"You've got the damn figures. Tell me."

Lynx smiled. "Well then, gentlemen, we have a war to discuss."

Number One jerked his head at Clatt as he growled, "Might I ask what the hell he's doing here?"

"I promoted him."

Number One's gaze dropped ominously on the fidgeting mage. "You better be worth your fancy mumbo-jumbo or I'll see your head on a spike, fool."

Clatt went white. "Y-y—ye-y-"

Number One roared, "Shut up you lily-livered poltroon! You'll take your vinegar and you'll like!" He turned his grizzled expression to Lynx and complained, "Have you gone crazy? Bringing that thing into this? I'll wager whatever bollocks he may have had were cut off long ago."

Lynx couldn't keep himself from smiling just a little. He and Number One went back a long way. He merely asked, "What do we know of the Pao Warriors?"

A small nervous man with a thin face spoke up. "Never been a lot of them before. A few hundred I'd say. They're expert marksmen though, and they know how to use the plains to their full advantage. Despite the numbers, we'll have a lot of casualties before we get in close enough to take control."

"Unacceptable," Lynx fired back. "We've got to have most of our forces intact so that we can sweep out from here."

His third general, known only as Fat Man, fingered his chin and asked, "Why not just wait, or better, send word to Magus? Once he moves from Alterone, he can get Zocc and his forces through and we can create a pincer attack."

"I'm afraid we no longer control Alterone. Magus was routed. And Zocc is dead."

The three generals exchanged a long look. They had all known Zocc well and respected his fighting prowess. Finally Riker asked the obvious question. "The Shining Force?"

"I think so. From what I've gathered," he glanced at Clatt, "some few of them got into the area and with aid from Guardiana defeated Magus. From there they gathered a fighting force and took Zocc out."

"In other words," surmised Fat Man, "their next logical target is Pao. They'll have to know that we're coming."

"Indeed. We must get there before they do so that we can prepare properly."

Number One grunted, "What's the best way to take on these tribesmen?"

Riker answered. "Well, they've got the rudiments of a fortress called Uranbatol. The problem is, if we attack from the harbor, they can keep us pinned down indefinitely. Attacking from the plains is an invitation for them to stay holed up inside and make this a lot harder. And they'd expect us to feint and go both ways, so they probably already know what they'll do in that case."

Fat Man frowned. "Couldn't we feint anyway? As long as it looked like our attack was heavily massed in both directions, say the entire fleet moving in at the harbor while we light more campfires than we need on the plains…"

Number One snorted. "If we do that they'll assign some to guard both entrances and do nothing until they see where we're really committing. It's what I would do."

Lynx said slowly, "So they've got a highly defendable position and we don't have an easy way of negating the advantage?"

Surprisingly, Clatt squeaked, "M-m-mag-magic m'lords. I-if w-w-w-e we-were to d-d-ock a few ships," he paused and wiped his brow, "w-wi-w-with e-enough s-swor-s-swords to guard them… w-we cou-cou-co-c-could u-use magic t-to force," here his stuttering became so pronounced that he finally just skipped the word, "out onto t-th-the plains…"

Lynx smiled. He hadn't expected it from Clatt, but the plan wasn't too bad. It could use a little refinement, but it was better than anything else so far proposed.

Number One said grudgingly, "That's got some merit. Once we force them onto our turf, the battle can be won. And if they're fleeing magic, they won't be as prepared to meet our swords."

Fat Man nodded energetically. "It's a wonderful plan. While they're distracted, the charge can be led and won with casualties much reduced."

"Mayhaps," replied Lynx. _That depends on the magic, I suppose._ He turned to Clatt. "You do realize that you'll have to be solely responsible for how effective the feint is? It'll be your command. I can only spare you minimal strength."

"I can go with him," Riker offered. "You won't need all three of us to take the charge. And somebody more seasoned should keep an eye on such an important front."

Clatt muttered, "An h-ho-h-honor m-m'lord."

Lynx nodded. "Good. We'll go with it. Dismissed for the moment. Look over your men and prepare. We'll reconvene in a little while to hammer out the details." As his generals rose he said quickly, "Not yet Clatt. I have another scrying I want you to do."

The mage quickly sat down again. Lynx flashed a quick grin and said, "I want to see how things are going back home."

---

Earnest replied exhaustedly, "We have to wait for at least one interrogation. They expect tricks the first time through."

Vankar retorted, "They won't with us. A disfigured old man, a little girl, and two drunks? Face it; they've got every reason to believe we're pathetic. The longer we wait, the more risk there is in it."

Earnest heard his arguments in numb silence. Nothing made him feel like anything much anymore. The only thing left was his fueled determination to break them free. He was better than Balbazak. He _had _to be better than Balbazak.

Kokichi interrupted, "_Heh_, I say you're both dumb. Trying to flee during an interrogation is stupid. I've thrown together a lot of things in my life, messed around with a lot of different and odd tools that you wouldn't think made good tools, _heh_." Abruptly he cackled, "_Heheheh!_ Speaking of tools that I've had to make do with-"

Earnest cut him off. "You're straying from the point. If you have something to say, then say it. And please, your puns are strangling me."

"_Heh_, as you wish. Anyway, _heh_, my point is, I can cut through that lock with something or other and get us out when we're not being watched, _heh_. Why not do it the safe way?"

Earnest snapped, "We may not have the time for that. And I haven't seen much in the way of odd tools for you to use."

Kokichi scratched his head. "Well, _heh_, it's true that I don't have anything on me…"

Earnest muttered, "I'd kill for a drink."

Vankar snapped, "That's fine coming from you with all your self-righteous-"

Krin interrupted in a quiet voice, holding a small object in her hand. "Would my hair-pin do?"

Earnest bit back the retort that was itching to spring to his lips. With any luck, he would only have to put up with Vankar for a few more days anyway.

Kokichi grinned at Krin. "_Heh_, little lady, that will do quite nicely."

Vankar shifted impatiently. "How long is this going to take?"

Earnest sniped, "You were the one urging speed. This is surely faster than your own brilliant plan."

Vankar glared at him. "Stuff a sock in it, Earnest."

"Ohh, very witty."

"Would you kindly-"

Kokichi cackled, "_Heheheh_! You're both fruitcakes and that's that, _heh._ Anyway, providing I don't break this and there aren't any trick hinges we should have this door open in approximately two minutes. _Heh,_ so, while I'm at it, I may as well keep you all entertained. Let's see here… of course! You'll be wanting the tale o' the lettuce field."

---

Hans hadn't noticed him until the question was posed. "Who are you?"

He turned and saw that it was Otrant. He replied irritably, "You tell me."

Otrant shook his head. "That is a question everyone must answer for themselves. I cannot answer it for you. What do you want?"

"To be left in peace."

"Where are you going?"

"Must you continue?"

Otrant smiled. "My apologies. Your inner self seems to be troubled. I only hoped to help. In a way I feel that I may be responsible for the grief ahead. I tossed the dice definitively."

"My inner self is fine, thank you." Hans couldn't help being snide. In truth, he was more than a little troubled at the moment, but he had never liked Otrant and now was a particularly bad time.

_Luke. High-minded bastard. Still a little too much to apologize? Well piss on that. _

More than that however, Hans was starting to feel truly isolated. Torl had treated him coldly since his king had died, and he could still feel the sullen glance that Alain had given him.

_Why did I have to stick my head into that one? If the fool wanted to die… as it is he's alive. And no longer a friend of mine._

He still had Jarl, thankfully. Although, truth be told, he wasn't exactly sure what to make of that. All he knew for certain was that the two of them had developed a very strange relationship.

Viktor chuckled in his ear, "Hoho, I been hearin' stories 'bout you."

Hans stifled his impatience with a little more grace this time. "Have you?"

"Aye. Rumor's round here that you an' Lord Luke are going to fight for control o' the army."

Hans snapped, "I serve my friends loyally. I don't seek to lead, only the recognition that my services are due."

Viktor burst out laughing. "Ohohohohhaha! The look on your face! I really had you goin' didn't I?"

Against his inclination, Hans started to feel that he liked the eccentric miner. He laughed, "You did, actually. Way things have been going, I wouldn't have been surprised."

Viktor shook his head grinning. "Oh, no. I decided, I like you. So, I have to ask you of the ultimate truth of the universe. Which one is better; beer and a woman or wine and a woman?"

Hans chatted and joked all the while and soon they had reached a plateau. Viktor glanced round and said, "Ahh! Down a ways an' we'll reach the plains!"

At that precise moment an arrow zipped seemingly from thin air to land just above Luke's head at the front of the column. A tall rangy looking man with flowing blonde hair stepped out into view, and just like his arrow, seemingly from no where.

He was followed by about ten others. He looked over the column slowly in a bored and disdainful manner.

Jarl asked calmly, "What would be the meaning of this, good sir?"

The man thrust his chin out belligerently. "This is my territory. You have to pay me to pass."

Luke's voice was soft. "I don't like extortion."

The man smiled. "You have two choices, stranger. You can pass, if you give us everything you have, or if you step over my dead body."

Luke sat quietly for half a moment and then said, "We'll pay him."

Torl turned aside. "Are you out of your wits?"

Luke snapped, "I said we'll pay him."

The man smiled thinly, obviously enjoying the exchange. "Smart move."

Luke stepped forward slowly, hands above his head. He bent down carefully putting his pack in front of the man. He straightened up, started back and then abruptly turned throwing a rock he had picked up.

The man roared as it slammed into his forehead. He lurched forward, his eyes blazing with furious anger, but two of the men behind him seized his arms. He stood there for a moment and then managed to spit out, "Well… met."

Luke nodded. "As I suspected."

The man managed a smile that was more arrogant than friendly and more a grimace than a greeting, "I, Xotho, on behalf of Queen Koron welcome you. We'll guide you from here, we have things to discuss."

---

Max rubbed his eyes wearily. He had not gotten off lightly. After making his decision, Mae had left, but Lowe had remained and had a long, frank conversation with him, stripping bare his problems of the last two weeks.

It still made him tired just to try and think about them, especially his altercation with Anri. Ian had been there as well, after all Ian was Max's nephew. He would have no secrets there. Aside from interjecting a few fairly sardonic comments, Ian had said relatively little on the subject.

Max considered carefully. He would want to consult Gort about a few things, get the camp organized for a brief period of rest. As far as that went, at least, he felt he had made the right decision.

He stepped forward, into the center of the camp, prepared to give a few brief orders before seeking out Gort, and perhaps grimly contemplating the consequences of the war.

_Slade… Khris, Jogurt, Amon, Balbaroy, Earnest and the others… His Grace of Guardiana, Varios…_

That was when he felt the crackling of power. He turned and saw Mishalea before him. He clenched his fists, well aware that it was merely an illusion.

"What the hell do you want?"

She smiled icily. "Greetings Lord Max. I am going to inform you that a new phase of our conflict is beginning. You have nowhere to hide anymore. A great network to the east has been raised. In order to smash through it, you will have to go through three entire armies and other small forces. I will tell you in no uncertain terms; if you make us do this the hard way, you and those you count as friends shall bleed. If you bend the knee however, you may play some small part in preserving the lives of at least a few of your friends."

Max arched a brow. "Are you so out of ideas that you have to resort to petty intimidation?"

Her tone was mocking. "Why don't you discover for yourself, Lord Max? Oh, incidentally, I happen to be hosting a few of your friends at the moment. Earnest sends his regards. Nosshu also sends regards to your nephew. Good night, Lord Max, and good luck."


	32. Chapter 32: And it All Comes to Dust

Chapter 32:

And it All Comes Down to Dust

"Ah… would you kindly remove your blade?" His voice and stance remained steady, but even Deanna was not impervious to the surprise. His eyes were a shade brighter.

"I wondered," said Ian, "what it would take to get your attention."

"I assure you, good sir, you have it."

Ian acceded to the request, moving his blade back just a bit, but still leaving the point aimed at Deanna's throat. The swordmaster said simply, "I wanted to speak to you."

"I can tell you quite plainly, sir that you did not need to threaten me for that."

"Not to get you to give me a moment of your time, perhaps. But certainly, the threat was required to get your attention." Deanna remained silent. Ian smiled. "You see, I've watched you quite closely, Lord Deanna. You're very much assured of yourself, I've noted. So much so, that you don't let opposing words have an effect on you, because you already know your response." His smile widened, "So rather than bring words, I opened the negotiations with steel."

"Very clever, no doubt."

Ian's mouth quirked. Deanna's attempt to seem disinterested, and thus bring the situation back under his own control, was masterful, he had to admit. Ian was, however, a swordmaster, and swordmasters were very good at reading people. They had to be.

Rather than responding, he waited in silence. Finally Deanna asked the obvious question. "You wanted to talk to me about…?"

Ian nodded. He had expected that. Deanna was a man, most at ease with making counter-attacks in any given situation be it a battle of swords or a ploy of words. The cautious opening had been exactly the sort of attack that he had thought Deanna would make, if forced to attack.

He said bluntly, "Lord Deanna, I shall be frank. You are not merely a liability; you are a danger to the peace that my uncle is trying to build in his forces and for all of Rune. I would have you become an asset."

Deanna tried a side-step. "To what aim?"

"Uncle Max is trying to build a better world. He's put his life-blood into this, and unless we can find focus in the Shining Force, Mishalea's going to tear it all down. That is the first order of business."

Deanna cleared his throat, "I assure you, Lord Ian, that-"

"Oh, I'm no lord like you. A simple 'Ian' will suffice for me."

"Ian then. I assure you that I have no goals in disturbing the focus of this group."

"You might not have the goals, but you are tearing things up all the same." Ian lent forward and continued earnestly, "You, Lord Deanna, are a conundrum. People are uncertain what to make of you. You don't offer anything aside from cryptic statements and what seems to be an interesting philosophy on the overall importance of love. Some distrust you for this. Others say that you're a loyal man, you've fought for us well." Ian paused, tapped his sword and went on, "I won't deny the last part. I've seen you fight, and you're very good. But, you don't give people anything with which to judge you, nor do you act in such a way that you can be understood very clearly. This is why you are dangerous, Lord Deanna."

The tall warrior stared back at Ian, studying his face, a melancholy smile playing across his lips. "You're very practical, aren't you?"

"I'm a realist," Ian admitted. "I don't know if Uncle Max can make this work, but he's poured everything he has into it. And I won't stand by and just let anyone ruin it for him, even if it's just the anomaly of ambiguity in a loyal man."

Deanna's mouth twitched. "And as a realist, you have taken it upon yourself to remove any difficulties before they become anything larger?"

Ian countered with a bald attack. "I want you to start knitting the flesh of this group back together. As long as you hold off, we can't do it. If you devote yourself to the cause, however, lost focus can be restored, allies reconfirmed…"

Deanna was silent for a long moment, studying Ian's face. Pushing his hair back, he said quietly, "And what exactly do you want me to do to… bring about this reformation?"

"End your feud with Prince Nicholas. Devote yourself to supporting, rather than fighting him. The less he feels threatened, the less he will threaten Uncle Max. And, I assure you, this need not be a play that has no benefit for you. I can put a word in the right ears to see that you'll be compensated as generously as you wish to be. If you fight with Prince Nicholas, he may even feel bound to grant you a holdfast and the style 'my lord.' Do this for the good of everyone… and you won't find them ungrateful."

"You fight very loyally for your uncle. That is commendable."

Ian smiled. "But my plan is not? Don't think to play such games, my lord, I can hear the words behind them. And, be certain that just about anything you want to demand is attainable. A lordship, wealth, influence… the way things are going you could probably even wear a crown if that was your desire. Protectora and Iom will both need a strong hand; it might be possible to establish you in Alterone…"

"Your offer is kind," Deanna told him.

Ian attacked blandly, "You're not Cyprian, are you?"

For a bare second, Deanna's eyes flickered upwards, but he quickly got them under control. Ian was satisfied however. The probe had worked. Deanna was not Cyprian.

The blue-cloaked man asked calmly, "What on earth makes you think such a thing?"

"Your accent." Ian shrugged. "I have a very good ear for such things. Yours is close to a Cyprian accent, but there are a few words you pronounce curiously."

"There is more than one accent in any nation, Ian. And I was born to a border village. Accents garble in such places."

"A border village? So, you're protecting an Iomite?"

This time, Deanna was prepared for him to drop an attack, so he gave his customary reaction of nothingness. "I protect those under my command, Ian. You might try to do the same."

Ian shook his head, smiling all the while. It had been good. He honestly wasn't sure if he'd put his finger on it, or if Deanna was, in fact, nothing to do with Iom. It had been worth a try though. He bowed, "Very well, Lord Deanna. Please think on what I have said." His glance traveled along his blade as he added, "Oh, and please, don't make the mistake of assuming that this was a conversation. If you choose to continue to be a harmful presence, then I will slay you and make my apologies to Lord Max."

---

Short of stature though she was, Queen Koron had a commanding presence. Her voice rang and sounded in such a way that Hans thought of iron. Strong. Iron was strong, but so very brittle…

"I welcome you," Queen Koron announced, "On the behalf of all of the people of Pao. It is good to know that the Shining Force is here. It is good to know that all of your peoples take their oaths of goodwill seriously."

Hans's mouth twitched, sardonic. Truly, this was the greatest conglomeration of the kingdoms of Rune that had ever existed. All the kingdoms were represented here, save Rindo alone. Koron might speak the pretty words of necessity, but this was unprecedented. The 'oaths' she spoke of were nothing more than mummery, but he had to admit that it was a good oratorical gesture.

Queen Koron spread her arms wide as her shrill voice continued, "And I would welcome such bold warriors with more than words; refreshment has been laid out for you, the gratitude of all of Pao for your aid at this desperate hour of need. And so, I welcome you Viktor of the Bustoke Fighting Corps." She gestured to a seat along Uranbatol's high dais. It was close to the end. "I welcome you, Lord Otrant of Manarina!" She gestured to another seat, which Lord Otrant promptly took, followed by Viktor who was muttering a belated 'thank you', red-faced. "I welcome you, General Torl. And I welcome you, Lieutenant Haiden."

Hans remarked to no one in particular, "She seems to have done a fair bit of research, I must admit." Fortunately, the list of names of those of high honor was not a long one and Koron was quickly drawing to a close.

"I welcome you, Alef, sage of Prompt." This time, she gestured to her right. Xotho, Hans noted, had taken the seat directly to Koron's left. Amongst the tribes of Pao, to be seated to the left was a great honor, and honor even greater than that of being seated to the right.

Hans studied the man for a moment. He had not remotely warmed to Xotho as the coalition forces pressed through the last legs of their journey. Xotho was doubtless a powerful warrior; that much was obvious just in his bearing. But he seemed arrogant to Hans. Ambitious. And while it might be nothing, deceitfulness often went hand in hand with arrogance and ambition.

"I welcome you, Alain of the Guardiana knights. I welcome you, Lord Commander Jarl of Guardiana. I welcome you, Sir Hans of Guardiana. And I welcome you, Lord Luke of the Shining Force."

Hans' hand jerked. Lord Luke of _the Shining Force_? That was rank insult. What was he? Some random lord of Guardiana? Hans took his seat, smiling politely, but his thoughts were black as he filled his cup for the toast.

And so the feast began. It was a loud, jubilant affair. Still sulking, Hans filled his plate and stared balefully at Queen Koron. Jarl murmured in his ear, "This certainly is a handsome welcoming. I wonder how much it's costing her to guest us with this feast?"

He muttered back, "Nothing she can't afford. Koron has a vested interest in making every overture she can. Even ones that strain her dwindling resources may turn out to be prudent in the long run."

Jarl chewed thoughtfully on a piece of meat. He repeated, "May turn out. That's what's bothering me. It's a large gamble for something that only may turn out to be a good move."

Hans shrugged. "She's playing the game of thrones like we all are these days. Big stakes means big risks."

Jarl's tone was doubtful. "Mayhaps."

Hans turned his gaze down the high dais, and suddenly he wanted to scream. He would not; he decided eat more of Koron's food. He would, however, fill his goblet. Down at the far end, he made out Viktor waving his arms about as he was busily telling Otrant something or other.

Doubtless the mage was listening more out of politeness than true interest. Alef sat, picking at her food. Hans felt a little sad, looking at her. She'd barely spoken or smiled since Torasu's death. The two had been close. He pushed that away though. What cause had he to be sorry for Alef? She had never treated him with any courtesy; their relationship was strictly dutiful.

Torl ate with a good enough appetite, but there was something listless about the general. He was, in so many ways, a mere shadow of his former self after his king had passed away. Yet he was harder, leaner as well. And no friend of Hans. Haiden sat ram-rod straight beside his general, keeping his conversation to a polite minimum.

Hans's eye was caught by Xotho. The man's face was completely still giving away nothing. Yet, Hans noted that he only picked at his food. His wine goblet never seemed to be empty, however…

Now that was very interesting. What had Xotho to be nervous about? Koron chatted gaily with Luke, but he suspected that was merely a façade as well. And Luke…

`No, that was _Lord_ Luke now, he mustn't forget. Lord Luke of the Shining Force. His hand clenched into a fist. He realized belatedly that Alain was saying something. He turned, to see the centaur smirking at his father.

"As you see, Father, Sir Hans has-"

Hans's temper abruptly snapped. He pointed an angry finger at the young centaur. "Piss on that. You don't like me because I didn't let you charge to your doom. Well, piss on that too! You have nothing to judge me by, you pup. Nothing! You think it's all Lord Luke and yourself. Well, your precious Lord Luke would have died at Alterone if it wasn't for me. I've done just as damn much as he has and I won't-" Hans trailed off realizing that his voice had gradually risen. There was utter silence on the high dais, although, thankfully, it seemed as though his angry words had not penetrated the masses below who were feasting with gusto.

Luke turned his eyes heavy on Hans, yet he spoke not a word. Jarl smiled and quickly said, "Look, Hans, you've spilled your wine. Here, let me get you another cup."

The centaur poured, and after a moment or so, the others turned back to their private conversations leaving Hans in a most awkward position. Jarl slid the goblet in front of him. Hans wearily snapped, "No, I said… oh dammit, yes." He'd already had too much wine, but it was the only thing he had the stomach for at the moment.

He could still feel the surprise of the others touching him. Viktor, tactless and unashamed of it, still craned his neck, trying to get a good look at him. Xotho's eyes rested on Hans, a faint interest in them.

Alain sneered, "So. You've done so very much for our cause. What exactly is that, Sir Hans? It was my-"

"Alain…" Jarl's tone was wary.

Hans snapped, "No dammit, let the boy speak his mind."

Alain looked smugly satisfied, however, and offered no further comment. Hans raged, silently.

_Why'd I have to stick my neck out there? Wounded the boy's pride, that's the truth of it. And until life knocks the piss out of him, he'll take it seriously. _Hans turned his sullen glance back towards Luke, the root of all his troubles.

Gods be good, he had known Luke since they were children! They had shared everything, played games together as far back as Hans could remember. Luke had shared his first cup of wine; Hans had bought him his first woman… Yet now, Luke the Lord had no use for old companions.

Hans nursed his anger, resentment growing. He might not have been anywhere near Alterone to hear the way that cursed singer was going on with his 'Lay of Alterone.'

_'Twas then that Lord Luke, bold and sweet as a rose_

_Led his attack against the dark lord with his sorcery spinning _

Hans sourly finished the verse. "He killed off the king and near winning, set his soldiers to tweak Sir Hans nose."

Alain guffawed aloud. Hans sat there, stiffly nursing the slight in silence. He could put up with it for the moment. Jarl rose, put a hand on Hans shoulder and repeated words he had once comforted the archer with, "A bold deed unsung is no less valiant." He glanced about and added quietly, "Come, Queen Koron is calling for a council of war."

---

Gort answered the announcement robustly, "Wha of et now, laddie? We'll stick oour swords oop their bungholes, 'nyway."

Max's eyes were not for the dwarf, however. He'd known that Gort would not back down. Instead, he studied all the other faces, wondering what was behind each one. He did not have to wait long. Bleu's announcement had been provocative enough.

Pelle, a rather unremarkable centaur knight, broke the heavy silence. "We cannot fight this."

His words evoked immediate indignation. "Cannot? Cannot? We can fight it, and we will fight it! What did we rise up for, if not to put an end to all the pestilence that festers under the rule of Mishalea?" The heated words came from Lowe.

"I'll not see us falter by the wayside. Blood calls out for vengeance. Mishalea's evil calls out for us to do good. And her existence calls for expedience." Max arched a brow. That had been unusually strong for Anri.

More measured in his response, Ken said, "I am Lord Max's man. We will fight to the end or bend the knee as it please my lord."

"That's fine and easy for yer to say, ye-"

Ian's tone was mild. "Ridion." The dwarf opened his mouth, and then shut it, firmly.

Zylo coughed feebly. "Blood… fire… _fire_ and blood!" It was impossible to say whose blood he was speaking of. The wolf looked horrible, raw shiny scabs covering his body, the courtesy of Chu Rao.

Pelle looked a little embarrassed, but he pressed on nonetheless. "This is madness. Rank madness. None have ever fought against Mishalea and beaten her. To have lasted this long… And now she's pulled this blockade out on us. My lords, we are beaten. We must sue for peace."

There was momentary silence, as the assembly drunk in Pelle's words greedily. Doubtless, many of them were grateful in a way. It saved them from having to speak the words and risk being called craven.

Prince Nicholas spoke, his face half masked by shadow. "The Shining Force may do as it pleases. Cypress stands for justice, alone or not, Mishalea be dammed." Max's eyes jerked towards the prince in surprise. For Nick to speak as a unifying figure… He scanned the faces of the others, and saw that Nick's endorsement seemed to have sparked a positive response.

Pelle looked as if he might have said more, but gritted his teeth. Deanna remained conspicuously silent. Max spoke commandingly, as he had to.

_As I have become accustomed to doing. _

"We do not allow ourselves to be thrown by this. We fight on, for justice, and for Rune. To bend the knee to Mishalea is to condemn the continent to a reign of terror. This I will not do." He wondered how many were convinced. He wondered how many just followed his words by rote. "Gort, you were there at the Sack. That was a brilliant move, but we fought it off. Queen Anri, you rode beside us at the battle of the Rudo Mountains. That was a strong stroke, but we broke it! We are a sword, tempered by fire, steel, and true justice! It is this sword that has steadily broken Mishalea's power, and this sword can be made even stronger! It is this sword that shall break her. She may send all of her power to the forefront, she may strike with everything she has and she will break herself on us! We fight."

He delivered the last words firmly, waiting to see if challenge would be given. There was dead silence. Then Gong smiled, and spoke, his voice rough and deep, "My pardons, Lord Max. I thought you should be informed that Arthur has re-joined the lands of the living."

Max hardly dared smile. This was brilliant time for such news. It would fire the others up, long enough for him to decide what to do.

The group seemed hesitant to move on. Finally Domingo said half-heartedly, "We fight." The words were picked up by others, and slowly the forces diffused their separate ways, for the moment, confirmed on this course that had been chosen for them.

As the others left, Max allowed his shoulders to slump, as he buried his face in his hands.

_It's too much. _

That was when he heard the voice of his nephew, sardonic. "A little white lie, Uncle?"

Max snapped bad-temperedly. "A big white lie. You know it, I know it, most of them know it. The ones that don't will know it soon enough." He shook his head feeling small and confused. "I had to put on a brave front for their sakes, but in truth…" He closed his eyes and said softly, "I don't know if we can fight this."

Ian's tone was more thoughtful than concerned. "It is a truly brilliant move. Three full armies, numerous relays, a small western outpost… An entire network in truth. Trying to take down one part only brings the ire of the others onto us." He laughed. "I think this is when I say, 'It's your move, Uncle.'"

Her tone was sharp and cold as ice. "You said it yourself, Lord Max. We will break this."

Max's tone was sharp with reproach. "And you know why I said it Mae. I don't see how…"

"Does it matter," she asked him, "what our personal fates are provided that we crush the threat to Rune? It is known to have happened. We can draw a straight line and stand firm, throwing them back. It may be that in order to achieve victory that we are shattered as well, but if we shatter the strength of the armies, Mishalea will have a difficult time achieving conquest. Especially as her one-time allies will trip over themselves to betray her and each other determined to arrive on top, with their main strength lost."

"You know we can't draw a bloody straight line. We do that, they call in support from other positions, flank and butcher us."

"This is not as dire as it seems in truth. These generals will not be eager to cooperate with each other. And the network must have some weakness we can exploit…"

Max stared at her, and laughed bitterly. "Ah dammit, Mae. Why are you always right?"

"Ken said it well enough, Lord Max. I am your… your man, live or die."

Max glanced at her sharply. He had only heard a pause there. That quaver… no that had been him. There was nothing for him to have heard. Nothing at all. He had to believe that.

Ian's lips twitched. He looked deeply amused. Max said hurriedly, "Very well, we may as well start _trying_ to salvage the situation…" He added slowly, "Open combat cannot be an option."

Mae said, "Open combat is our truest option. They won't expect that. Mishalea has more soldiers and they're trained. We have true talent and the brilliance of an uncut diamond."

"Think of Guntz dying in his tent before you endor-"

"I," she replied calmly, "was thinking of Guntz. What, pray, were you thinking of Lord Max?"

His voice was irritable. "Of course I was thinking of Guntz. I don't want to kill more of my friends."

"This coming from the man who urges war on a basis of justice _regardless of the price_? You speak as though you'd already written Guntz off, Lord Max."

"Dammit Mae! He's dying."

"One might once have said the same of Arthur."

"I'm not… that is..." How could he explain it? Why did he need to explain it though? Mae was only trying to help him; he had to remember that. She was a loyal pillar of strength; he had to start thinking objectively again. He was just so tired… if only he could rest a while.

"Open combat is still too risky," he insisted.

Ian leaned in, his hawk-like face earnest, "What of this raiding party that Bleu mentioned?"

Max replied thoughtfully, "The one that was led by the armored figure you mean? That's a bad business… Slaughtering towns, razing crops, destroying what he doesn't take."

"Most distressing. That may not be… very important though, as regards our priorities." Mae's tone held a trace of discomfort.

Max sighed. "The hell of it is, you're right. I'm not worried about us being attacked here, that's what I'd want and they know it. Won't give it to us. They want us to starve, or to bring the war to their turf. Still, this raider…"

Ian said warningly, "He's obvious bait, Uncle. He raids just close enough to the network to start a general bloodbath if we try to attack him."

Max set his jaw. "This is true. But I can't allow this butchery to continue in my name. Nothing justifies that. Nothing."

Ian summed up, "So, you're saying we're in a bad position with no place to move to, in which acts of terror are being committed because of you and in which open combat is too risky to chance? Sounds great."

Mae spoke again. "There are… other options."

"What?" Max wasn't holding out much hope.

"Assassination," she suggested quietly.

---

Jon the alchemist quickened his pace. He was eager to get back to the comfort of his small little house, carved right out of the mountain. It was just right for him, everything where he could get at it.

He really would, he told himself yet again, have to examine the matter the transmutation of metals more closely. He'd exhausted the subject of Lunar Dew after all, and he wasn't certain that the transmutation of silver to gold was quite… genuine.

He curled his lip scornfully. Paradelli. What did that fool know? "Ought never to have been allowed to practice the arts at all," muttered Jon. "Let alone having his ideas taken seriously. Well not me. Oh no, his 'Laws of Alchemy' don't fool me."

He thought, with irritation, of that business with that rather strange girl again. He'd been just about to really sink his teeth into this Paradelli business, when she showed up with some nonsense about being his niece or something.

He didn't even have any siblings! But, he'd gotten rid of that little hussy easily enough. Jon briskly stepped forward through his doorway, and immediately went to check the state of all of his equipment. He always did.

Nodding in approval he turned back, and realized with sudden delight, that his dinner was prepared for him. There was that special fish that he'd bought too. Jon was very fond of fish. He paused then, his brows puckered in heavy thought for a moment.

Of _course_! He must have used his burner to set up for grilling the fish before he'd left his house. That was it. So, self-assured, Jon the alchemist sat down to enjoy a truly excellent dinner. It had been years since he'd spiced anything so very well, he told himself.

Settling back into his chair, he took a cursory pull at his pipe, and held up a small glass of port. He downed it one go. Or at least tried to. Spitting indignantly, he sputtered, "Foul. Everything tastes foul today." Come to think of it, the last few bites of the fish even hadn't been that great. He'd have to note both of these things down. What could cause port to spoil, he wondered?

He rose to his feet, shuffled over to his apparatus and bent down, beginning the notes. After a moment, he took a deep breath. There must have been something extraordinarily wrong with that port, he was feeling positively ill. Jon struggled on, valiantly, nonetheless.

He took another deep breath, and decided that it would do him good to sit down for a minute or so before really starting those notes. A shame. He liked to have something coherent down on paper before taking any kind of break, but when a man was indisposed, that was that.

He tottered unsteadily over towards his comfortable chair, and collapsed weakly, not even able to sit down. As darkness descended around him, he abruptly understood. It must have been the fish. Rotten, or something. As he lay there, dying, Jon the alchemist hoped that the others would be able to know that it had been poisoning by a rotten fish that had killed him, so very ignominiously.

---

Earnest's tone was terse. "Just follow me. I don't care about any of our differences at the moment; this is going to be risky."

He stepped briskly forward, sparing only the briefest of backward glances to ascertain whether or not his companions were following him. He was feeling an unusual feeling of foreboding. Lord Max had once escaped from this castle, but he was Lord Max and Earnest… well he didn't know what he was.

He glanced back again. Kokichi was having a slightly rough time of it; he had been assigned to look after Krin. Thankfully the old man was still strapped to that flying contraption of his. Earnest wasn't sure how it worked, but he had a feeling they might need it. Vankar was business-like and grim. Completely sober.

Earnest turned back, rounding the corner and ran slapbang into a guard right in front of Sub-Commander Eiku. The guard took a dazed step backwards, dropping his sword. Earnest seized it in a flash as Eiku roared in outrage.

"You miserable prisoner!" Eiku's own sword was unsheathed immediately. The sub-commander took a carefully guarded stance roaring out orders, "Get them under control and back in that cell. Only kill if you have to! Damn it, now!"

Earnest snapped, "You three! Get out of here! One of us has to stay behind, and it'll be me!"

Eiku's eyes glinted with hatred. He whispered, "Oh yes, it'll be you." And lunged. Earnest barely blocked the thrust. His senses were still too dulled by the days of self-gratification.

"_Heh,_ you're a fruitcake if you think tha-"

"NOW!" bellowed Earnest. He seized Kokichi, who was still holding on to Krin and yanked hard on a string he saw, hanging off of the old man's device. Abruptly the two went flying forward, fast out of sight.

Earnest threw himself at Eiku, slamming his fist into the sneering bastard's face as Vankar charged forward, screaming. The guards scattered like pins, unnerved by the sudden attack. These were only prison guards, unused to real combat situation, less highly trained than most soldiers.

Even so, one was fast enough to turn and take a stab at Vankar's back. Earnest couldn't see if it struck even as Eiku staggered toward him, blood running down his cheek and cursing, "Son of a pox-ridden ass!" Earnest never knew if they made it through.

Earnest came hard forward, and Eiku parried. The centaur started to move back, but he was still too slow to stop the skilled riposte that ripped through his chest. Earnest fell backwards, aware at the last moment that his own sword had clanged hard into Eiku's plate armor. He could understand why the sub-commander walked around in it.

But already that was fading. There was only one face, a hideously ugly one. Earnest laughed weakly. "Balbazak, you old bastard you. Thought you'd come for me, eh?"

The apparition didn't answer. Earnest coughed blood and rasped, "Ah well, y'see that's a mistake. I can fight you now. I can kill you. I couldn't before… but now I see." He continued on, hoarse and weak, "We're really not that different. I could've been you, and you could've been me. Not so different. I can beat you this time…" He coughed more blood. "Really, truth to tell, I'm what you made me. And now… now I'm ready."

He laughed as he continued his one-sided conversation with his former foe. "Y'see, thing is, I figure there's only one real difference between us. You were strong… but you can't," he coughed blood one last time, "you can't deny that I've got style…"


	33. Chapter 33: Interlude Part 3

Chapter 33:  
Interlude Part 3

_Alf walked slowly towards the guard's barracks. Mars hadn't actually known that much. The Hobbit Elder had arrived at the castle gates, demanding the right to speak to his old friend, King Ulrich. The guards had refused him entry and the Elder had left; his fury palpable. _

_The _why_ of it still eluded Alf. The hobbits were friends of the crown, they should have been granted access immediately. If any of the rumors of a dark sorcerer spoke truly, however, it might have been sheer expedience that had dictated the guard's refusal to the Elder. Or not. _

_There were those elves that had been with the hobbits. Two elves, Mars had told him. It all came back to elves in one way or another. Alf had asked the one other pertinent question of Mars, before the two had parted. _

"Do you know the guard who refused them entry?"

"Charter…" _The reply floated back. _

_Charter… That only further confirmed Alf's suspicion that there was something curious going on in Odegan. Charter was one of the oldest guards, well past thirty. His ideas of loyalty and honor were firmly rooted; if he received a direct order he would follow it and promptly forget it immediately after. _

_Any of the high officials could have ordered this refusal without fear of it being linked back to them, none easier than the Lord Chancellor. Or King Ulrich himself. _

_Alf shifted restlessly. So much depended on hearsay alone… If Satera really was being used as a pawn in sorcerer's web then the sorcerer in question was either very powerful, or there was a willing traitor on the inside of Odegan. And that was only added to the fact that he was certain that Ulrich was playing a game of his own, and probably the Chancellor as well. _

_Added to that was the complication that once one player started using Satera as a pawn, all of the others would adjust to that and maneuver to make her a pawn for their own schemes. _

_But, if there really was a covert conspiracy in Odegan, then how did Alf stand in it? If the Lord Chancellor was the true enemy, then Alf was already marked as a problem. King Ulrich… the more he thought about it, the more that last meeting he had had with his cousin disturbed him. _

There was a message there, oh yes.

_Ser Kaizel could be depended upon, he was certain. And Mars. Alf had taken a few steps to ingratiate himself further with Mars. While Mars himself had done nothing of particular note, yet, being the son of Ser Jiles lent him a certain amount of grandeur that all parties would be a little unwilling to strike at. And if he was Mars's friend… well they'd be reluctant to strike at him as well. _

_Ruminating nervously, Alf stepped into the barracks, resolved to get a good nights sleep for the guard duty. He had scarcely advanced a pace before a hard hand slammed into him, grabbing at his throat and knocking him into the wall. _

_"You careless ass," hissed Alec. _

_Alf pushed back, angrily. "Fuck that Alec. And fuck your _ser_ too. You think a promotion and four hairs on your lip makes you a man—" _

_Alec's fist slammed into Alf's face. The taller guard shouted, "You shut your mouth! What the hell were you playing at yesterday? And you promoted? Promoted?" His voice was steadily rising to a shriek. _

_Alf sneered, "At least I did something to get mine. Instead of sucking up to the Chancellor and his elitist frien—"_

_Alec bellowed angrily and went for another punch, but this time Alf was ready and forestalled him by kneeing the lieutenant in the groin. Alf growled, "Don't touch me." _

_He glared around at the small group of guards who had been silently watching. His voice was scathing, "You lads are all wonders for your mate here. Anyone else want to have a go at me? Or did you leave you courage in the same fires that burned your bollocks?" _

_Despite the truly provocative insult, none of the others made a move save Alec who was twisted over on the ground, red-faced from rage, shame, and pain. Alf pushed his way forward and angrily slammed down into a chair at a corner table. _

_Alec stumbled to his feet, glared at Alf, but swayed unsteadily towards the door rather than continue the confrontation. For that much, at least, Alf was duly grateful. _

_He picked up a small keg of ale and swirled it around resentfully. "Ass," he muttered under his breath. He remembered Alec from when he had first taken his position as a guard. Alec had been witty and amusing enough then, genial and friendly as well. But the moment he had gotten in with the upper crust, well Alf was too lowly for him to bother with. _

_At that moment, Paul strode through the door, whistling, oblivious as always. He nodded politely at Alf. Alf had always liked Paul, at least he was courteous. Paul said cheerfully, "Just passed 'Tenant Alec in the hall. Looked terrible. Come down with something?" _

_None of the other guards were willing to meet his eyes. Alf said loudly, "Alec and I had a disagreement." _

_Paul blinked and fixed him with a deadpan stare. "Oh. I see. Well," he strode over to Alf and whispered conspiratorially, "I just came from seeing Ser Kaizel. He's sending me and Bob, under Charter's command, to the Hobbit Village. And he mentioned that he'd want to see you sometime tomorrow, late night probably." _

_"Thanks," said Alf sourly. Able to take the hint, Paul quickly retreated. Alf glared darkly at his ale. He muttered, "They all hate me. Because I'm better than them." He was better than them too. He'd outdone Cayne and Alec, been promoted and twisted out of Morley's trap. _

_He looked sullenly at the others, who were not quite managing to conceal their nervousness. Well, let them be nervous. They should all be punished as far as Alf was concerned. He would see to it as well. With that comforting thought in mind, Alf curled up and went to sleep. _

_--- _

_Both Ser Kaizel and the Lord Chancellor were there. That did not, Alf thought, bode well. The Chancellor said pompously, "Be on your guard! I'm afraid none of us know exactly what… might be coming. However…" _

_Alf frowned as the man's voice trailed off. He seemed quite recovered from his… earlier lapse. Curious. Decidedly most curious. _

_Kaizel glanced sharply at the Chancellor and Alf took his opportunity. He asked shrewdly, "Beg pardon, Ser, but might I know precisely what is going on? I gather from the rumors that abound that something is wrong with the princess. In order to guard her effectively I should—" _

_"That's classified." The Chancellor's voice was brusque. _

_Kaizel snapped, "And will you explain to King Ulrich why it is that his daughter was _not _protected? I'll have no part of this mummer's farce." _

_The Chancellor turned a vaguely demonic glare on Kaizel. "This situation would not have arisen if you had just—" He stopped abruptly, as though only just then realizing that there were more than two pairs of ears present. _

_"Be that as it may. Very well. We have reason to believe that the Princess may be susceptible to attacks of some magical source. That is all!" _

_Kaizel snorted, audibly. The Chancellor glared and then swept off. Kaizel followed shortly, stopping just long enough to inspect their spears. And the two of them were alone. _

_"Well uh…" suggested Alfred, "Why don't you make a routine sweep Mars? I'll keep vigil here, and then we'll trade off." _

_Mars nodded silently and quickly stepped into the castle. Alf sighed, turning back to his post, but as abruptly as a sheet of water explodes over one, a shockingly powerful source gripped his innards. _

_Gasping in pain, Alf fell to the ground feeling neutralized. He immediately started to fight back, mustering all the control over his powers that he could, gasping, straining… _

_Mars came running back out and toppled over as well. It was then that a gigantic… reptile lept onto the wall with startling ease. If Alf hadn't been so busy he would have stared. _

_This thing was the most disgusting specimen he'd ever laid eyes on, obese and with a sly, smirking air about him. He was covered in dark green markings that contrasted with his light green scales and he wore a truly hideous yellow hat. _

_The reptile complained a great length about Mars, not paying any attention to Alf at all. It finally seemed to get bored of posturing and hissed, "__Come forth, ssssweet Princess of the night!" It then continued at great length, making rather obscene, lewd comments about Satera. She walked on numbly, as though in a trance. _

_The reptile took an extra moment to complain about Mars, naming the name, 'Pazort.' It then left. With a great surge, Alf felt his power respond at last. To his dismay, however, the energy flowed directly to Mars who lept up without a second thought, dashing down the parapet. _

_Alf tried to scream, but his throat was locked into silence. He tried to free himself as he had freed Mars, but that power remained beyond his grasp as well. He couldn't focus anymore. _

_Silently he raged, _Damn them all, I'll have their heads for this! Those gutless cravens pulling this on me! And Mars too, damn him! Mars too!

_He lay there for what must have been hours, when he felt a suddenly loosening of pressure. Stumbling upright he gasped. It was the same reptile as before! Even as he lunged for his blade, the reptile bowed and said greasily, "You mussst forgive me, great arcane masster. I fear that we did not immediately recoginzzze you. I apologizze for the thoughtless overssssight." _

_Alf was more confused than angry now. "Who the hell are you? What do you want? Are you part of the sorcerer's web?" _

_The reptile bobbed its head agreeably. "Pleassse… allow me to introduce you to our Master Pazort. All quessstions shall be answered." _

_Alf hesitated for a moment. Surely this was the enemy that Ser Kaizel had spoken of… _

_The reptile went on, "Oh, forgive me for wasssting your time, my lord. I can sssee that you have no interessst in following us to learn… If you are afraid of acting I shall immediately withdraw." _

_An obvious ploy, that, yet all the same it struck a nerve. Ser Kaizel had always acted as though he were somebody who bore watching. He didn't need to be watched. Angrily Alf put his mentor from his mind and asked, "Your name?" _

_"Oh of courssse… I am Bangar, asss it pleasse you." _

_"Bangar," he repeated doubtfully. _

_The reptile nodded and took hold of his hand, firmly. "Come. My colleagues are mosst eager to meet one of your ssstature." _

_Despite the inscincerity of it, Alf privately admitted that the flattery did please him. He followed Bangar's lead, his curiosity aroused. The reptile's path was meandering, but Alf didn't give up trying to track their surroundings. _

_Bangar stopped, abruptly, wiped out his chin, put one finger straight between his eyes and said pompously, "There isss… one little matter." Alf might have laughed at the ridiculous posturing, but he was growing curious. _

_"Yes," he prompted. _

_Bangar studied his face quite closely. "From thisss point… we mussst transssssssport." _

_Alf frowned suspiciously, his face heating as he grasped the slight. "You play me false and I'll gut you," he warned. _

_Bangar bowed a greasy smile on his face. "I live but to sssserve." Alf didn't deign to make a reply. Tongue flickering rapidly, the reptile asked, "You have no objectionssss?" _

_Alf hesitated; he sensed that before him was an irrevocable choice. He wavered, wondering again, why he was accommodating the enemy that Ser Kaizel had set him to guard against… Yet at that thought, he was both angry and ashamed. _

_He loved that old man, but Kaizel had never truly trusted Alf to do anything. Always watching, always waiting… for what? _

There is nothing_, he thought sulkily. _

_This, he resolved, would prove his worth beyond measure. He would be able to carry vital military intelligence; even if his cousin, Ulrich, refused to appreciate Alf for his own merits, he would have to approve of such of a gift! _

_Still, Alf was not certain. What about Mars? Bugger Mars, he decided. Bugger him with a rusty spear. The boy was as dreary as the rest of his colleagues, and probably plotting with Morley and Alec behind his back anyhow. _

Let Mars keep his post, and his pretty face. In a few hours I'll have far eclipsed him.

_In that moment, Alf was decided. He'd had enough of the bloody cold. The others could keep their schemes going blithely. He would finally rise to the great heights that were due to him. _

_He jutted his jaw. "No objections." _

_Bangar smiled that same oily smile and then began murmuring phrases too quickly for Alf to catch. In a bare moment, the world swam sickening around him, and vertigo clenched hard at his innards. _

_Alf desperately felt for his own power, anything to end this torment! And that was when the world solidified around him. He was in a long hall with a narrow table taking up the majority of the space. At one of the chairs sat a strong looking dark elf, his pale skin offsetting the deep red in his hair. He was dressed immaculately in blacks and easily grasped a long, narrow staff. The sense of power emanating from it immediately struck Alf. _

_Seated in a chair directly to the left of the elf was another, this one was hunched over with hair that stood on end, a hooked nose, and a vaguely cruel expression on his face. The two were in deep conversation. _

_"Your brother has sent furth—" _

_"My brother can bugger a rusty spear," snapped the elf. "Does he offer me swords? Power? Funds?" The elf punctuated each point with a thump on the table. _

_The other looked down nervously, muttering a barely audible, "Well." _

_"Then what good is he?" The elf pointed an angry finger at his subordinate. "There will be no more talk of my worthless brother. We should be contemplating Odegan, you clot." _

_A third figure, this one seated at such an angle to the right of the elf that Alf had not at first seen her, leaned forward and asked, "If you're concerned about Odegan, why didn't you take advantage of capturing the princess? The boy-" _

_"Is a boy," finished the elf. "He can be taken care of when I please. You ask why I did not act? I will tell you; if I used the princess it would not work. Ulrich is not a fool. He put his daughter out, as some kind of bait." _

_The woman was beautiful, and blue. Her long hair held a luster, but a frown twisted her pretty mouth. "On what basis do you-" _

_"Best not to speak of that now. I believe that we have a guest." The elf turned sharply, fixing a magnetic gaze on Alf. "Well met, sorcerer. My name is Pazort." He gestured to an empty chair across from himself and said, "Sit. Eat." _

_Alf took the chair cautiously, but did not touch the food. The elf seemed amused. _

_"You think I mean to poison you? I assure you, Bangar could have killed you quite easily without bringing you this far." _

_"Men may disappear for a number of reasons," retorted Alf. "Harder to claim that my guts simply spilled out." _

_Pazort countered, "I understand we have you to thank for the charming acquaintance of that callow youth. Mars, was it?" _

_"And I understand that you want to fell Odegan." _

_"Is Odegan a tree, my lord?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I've been remiss in my courtesies. General Nuge," he gestured lazily to his left, "And General Kari." He nodded at the woman. _

_She smiled at him murmuring, "You look most elegant, Lord Alfred." _

_Alf, rather than responding to the transparent flattery snapped, "I've not shared my name with you. What makes you think that I am this 'Alfred' of whom you speak?" _

_"Oh nothing," replied Kari amiably. "What makes you think that he is Master Pazort?" _

_Alf could sense mockery heavy in the air. "I'll not be made light of," he warned. "You wanted me here, so I better get some answers." _

_Pazort laughed. "You would threaten us? With what? I don't deny that you're powerful, but do you have even the slightest idea how to _use_ your talents? No, I didn't think so." _

_"Slight me at your peril." _

_Pazort snorted. "Why, should I fear your magical prowess? Or perhaps your expert blade-work?" _

_His frustration was close to boiling over. He stood, unsheathing his blade and pointed it at Pazort. Alf's mouth opened, about to lambaste the elf, when a hard hand grabbed at Alf's wrist, jerking it back and flipping the sword out of his reach. _

_The blade clattered against the table, the point, amazingly still directed towards Pazort. Alf turned a hot and angry gaze towards the one who had interfered. He was tall, lean, well-muscled, garbed in light armor. The only concession to finery was a rather elaborate mask covering the majority of his face. _

_What really caught Alf's attention though were those brightly burning, hot, hawk-like eyes, lethal and dangerous. This one had presence. _

_Pazort broke the momentary silence, anger touching his tone. "Don't just stand there." Abruptly he lurched at his seat. "Hellsteeth, Gwaid, pick it up!" _

_The warrior spared Alf a brief glance and took his steel. Pazort already seemed to be calming. He said stonily, "I was taught that it's death to attack one's host. Doubtless you meant to offer me your blade."_

_Alf felt his face flush, embarrassed. He said angrily, "I've not taken your food or your drink. You can't invoke the right of the host." _

_"Hmm, quite true. It would appear that our guest is clever, Bangar. You didn't mention that part." _

_Alf turned, glancing sharply over his shoulder at the reptile. Bangar was standing an obsequious expression on his face. Nonetheless, he gaped like a fish, "Massster I…" _

_Pazort cut him off. "Nonetheless, I weary of your company Lord Alfred. If you will not sit and eat with me as befits a courteous member of society then I must ask you to leave my roof." _

_Alf was more confused than ever. He managed, "Don't think that you can side-track the issue with this! You'll never gain access to Odegan." _

_He had a bland expression on his face. "I wasn't under the impression that you were thinking. And if I want admittance to Odegan, then I, or one of my associates would ask nicely. Thank you for your time." _

_Alf stood there open-mouthed. He had come expecting trickery, but that was the most straightforward, fair, encounter he'd ever had. He felt a hand on his arm, Bangar was leading him back. _

_Alf stumbled numbly. Pazort called out, "Oh, Gwaid. Give our young friend his sword, yes that's the idea." _

_The silent warrior picked himself up off of the wall and handed the blade to Alf before settling back into his former position. Alf didn't have time to frame a reply of any kind before vertigo clenched at him again. _

_--- _

_Alf blearily opened his eyes, wondering why he felt so sick. A headache was pounding at his skull relentlessly, and his skin felt as though it were crawling. The light was painfully bright in his eyes. _

_Squinting, he realized that the sun was up, shining merrily away. And the last thing he remembered… _

_Groaning, Alf managed to sit up, his sore muscles screaming in protest. Now that was odd. He hadn't exerted himself. Doubtless it was the uncomfortable position he'd taken in his unconsciousness. _

_If it was already day however… Panic set in as he lurched to his feet. He'd need to get to the castle, and quickly. He hadn't learned much, but he'd sat with Pazort, talked with him. That alone would have to count for something. _

_Alf stumbled after only a few steps. Gasping for air, he retched. Rolling away from the mess, he scrubbed feebly at his sticky jaw with a few leaves. He needed to get going. Unfortunately, his body was refusing to obey him. _

_With an effort, he sat up again. By this time, Alf was sufficiently conscious to keep going, just devilishly sore and tired. He staggered forward, this time better able to keep his balance. _

_Clearly this bad morning was a gift from Pazort. Well, Alf had a gift too, and he intended to send it along. He managed to make it through the doorway into the kitchens. The chefs were all busy; none spared him a glance. _

_Steeling himself for the audience ahead, he hobbled along as quickly as he could, and after some initial mishaps, made his way to the audience chamber of King Ulrich. He could immediately sense that something was wrong. _

_At his entry he saw, Satera standing by her father's side and Mars kneeling at the foot of the throne. Ulrich glanced up, and dismissed Alf at a glance. Mars looked apologetic. Only Ser Kaizel met his eyes and his face was full of pity. _

_Alf didn't bother trying to puzzle out the meaning of this, rather he limped forward and began, "Your Grace—" _

_The Chancellor sneered, "His Grace has not asked to speak with you. If you would have some matter to set before him, it must wait." _

_"But," Alf nearly bit his tongue, "I come bearing news—" _

_"Enough Alfr… Abel." Ulrich's tone was brusque. "I'll get to you in a moment." He turned back to Mars. "Dressed in blacks you say?" _

_"Yes, Your Grace. Immaculate clothing, tall, red hair. The others with him called him Master Pazort." _

_Alf gaped mindlessly at the smaller boy. Mars had seen… but of course if Satera was with him… His mouth opened and closed in wordless fury. _

_Satera gushed, "Oh Mars was so brave Father. And so very gallant too; he defeated that horrible creature!" _

_Ulrich smiled indulgently. The Chancellor's look of smug satisfaction was quick fading, however. Alf took some small satisfaction in that; doubtless the Lord Chancellor felt he was losing control of the situation. _

_Alf roared angrily, "I WILL BE HEARD!" He started to point an angry finger, when the king cut him off with a voice of stone. _

_"No. I shall be heard. Doubtless some suitable post may be discovered for you as befits one of… your stature. Nonetheless, for the moment you are suspended from active duty. That is all." There was contempt in his eyes. _

_For a moment the injustice of it was so great that it took Alf's breath away. And that was when he realized the truth. He turned a hot glare on Mars. The boy looked horribly uncomfortable, rose to his feet and kissed Satera's hand. The princess blushed, and quickly retreated from the audience chamber. _

_There was an icy silence broken by the Chancellor. "I believe that His Grace dismissed you." _

_At last, Ser Kaizel stirred. "Stop mocking the lad. I'm sure—" _

_"Enough." Ulrich's tone brooked no argument. _

_Kaizel abruptly looked his age. He was an old man, and he looked so very frail. He started, "Your Grace…" Finally the old knight turned his gaze to the floor. _

_Mars slid out of the room and Alf followed quickly. He seized the boy's shoulder and hissed, "You treacherous scu—" _

_Mars shouted, "What was I supposed to tell them when they asked of you? Pazort's magic had knocked you out! There was no shame in admitting that Alfred! The shame comes from concealing the fact!" _

_He roared, "You betrayed me! And I had that situation under control." _

_"No you didn't! You were out, cold as the stones. Make no mistake; I like you well enough Alf, but you lied! You couldn't protect Satera and it was wrong of me to aid you!" _

_"And did it never occur to you to see what condition I might have been in before you ran off for glory?" Alf punctuated each word with a sharp jab when he felt hands yanking him backwards. He turned to see Mike there, looking at him with horror. _

_"Ser Mars—"_

_"_Ser_ Mars?" _

_Mike looked at him in a wounded kind of silence that was the worst sort of indictment yet. Mike who had always treated him decently… _

_Another voice spoke up, mocking and cruel. "What's this now?" Alec sounded positively delighted. "A brawl. Well, I wouldn't take offense, but you, Alfred, attacked an anointed knight. I hear that you've lost your right to active duty and your rank. Still, this requires some sort of punishment, don't you agree?" _

_Alf's hand shot down for his sword as Alec roared at the top of his voice, "MURDER! ASSAULT! HELP!" _

_The blade barely cleared his sheath before he was hemmed in by more guards that had come running. Alec sniggered, "Let's show this one how things are done around here." _

_--- _

_That evening saw Alf in an even sorrier condition than he had been that morning. He was limping along slowly, remembering that Paul had, before he left, told him that Ser Kaizel would want to be seeing him. _

_Each step was sheer agony; Alec's mob had not been gentle. Although Mars had taken no part in it. _

He didn't need to. Bloody bastard, already ruined me as it is.

_They were all in it against him, Mars, Morley, Cayne, Alec, Mike… Even Ulrich, his own blood, had betrayed him. He limped into the small little guardhouse, and there was Ser Kaizel, seated behind a desk. _

_His pale eyebrows shot up. "Alf my dear boy. Are you alright?" _

_"Why should I be?" he spat. "Bloody mob did this to me." He was silent for a moment and burst out, "Dammit, Ser, I was there too! I saw—" _

_"Alf…" Kaizel's tone was sorrowful. "You are as close to me as if you were my own blood. Don't lie; not again." _

_"I wasn't lying!" At that he bit his lip. He'd have to tell Kaizel of his powers… _

_"Truly I am sorry for you, Alf. But I had to—" _

_Alf rambled, "No, you don't understand. I have powers you see and…" He stopped short. His eyes narrowed. He asked softly, "Whose idea was it to knight Mars?" _

_"Alf, I—" _

_"Answer my question, dammit." _

_The old man looked older than ever. He closed his eyes and said quietly, "I… I did it. But Alf you must…" _

_As Ser Kaizel's voice trailed off into nothingness, Alf could hear the wind whistling in his ears. _

I… I did it.

_"I was there too," he croaked. "You knew… and yet you knighted Mars and didn't even try with Ulrich—" _

_"Alf you must understand! I wanted to help you but I couldn't, your family… Your family's pa—" _

_"I trusted you!" screamed Alf, turning and running out of the door. _

_His mentor's voice rang in his ears, "Alf, wait! I can explain!" _

_Alf was beyond explanations. He staggered out into the evening air, the rain falling cool on his fevered skin. He didn't know how long he was there or where he was when he saw Mars hovering above his head. _

_It was Mars… Mars was doing this. He clenched his sword tightly. He could settle Mars at least. _

_A voice called out, "Alf? You look—" _

_Alf spun around, and there was young Cayne. His blade was out, slashing across Cayne's throat before he even realized it was in his hand. The young guard died without a sound. _

_Alf cackled crazily, "Fight, damn you." He prodded the body with his toe. "Get up and fight dammit!" Sobbing and laughing at the same time he knelt, shaking the body. "You have to get up and fight!" _

_Cayne lay there silently. "Noo! You have to! You have to! Fight, dammit, get up and fight!" Finally Alf staggered to his feet, walking numbly towards the guard's entrance room. _

_There, on duty at the door was Morley, his back to Alf. The bigger guard turned as he approached and started to smile a greeting at Alf. Before he could even try, Alf crashed into Morley's side, his blade slicing through Morley's false smile. _

_"Heheheh!" Alf giggled weakly as he stumbled outside into the rain. He would wait here. It was alright. The rain would wash the blood away. _


	34. Chapter 34: First Probe

Chapter 34:  
First Probe

"Vat? Vat is sis? I left you vis direct orders to serve Master Eiku!"

Kre'sar's hood twitched as he replied, "His gloriousness has sent me to armor you in righteousness, the better to slay those who are misguided."

Slit was starting to regret that he had ever become entangled with Kre'sar. He didn't deny the mage's raw ability… but his fanaticism was fast becoming a headache to cope with. He wished that he could just have a straight answer.

"And?"

"His gloriousness wishes that I convey to you of the scheming of non-believers."

"Relays," snapped Slit impatiently. "You're carrying relays. Is sat it?"

"Yes." Kre'sar's tone held a faint note of reproach as though he were wounded that Slit could sum up his mission so callously. He reported, "His gloriousness-"

Slit cut him off there, practically gagging by this point, "His _gloriousness_?"

Standing stiffly there Kre'sar barked, "Lord Eiku is the soul of the darkness reborn."

Slit sputtered for a moment. Had he had any doubts before hand, he was decided now; Kre'sar was completely mad. Although, it might be useful to be considered the servants a living god… Slit discarded the notion after a bare second of thought.

While being thought to serve a living god might be useful, there was no way that Lord Eiku would be considered as such. That was when Slit frowned, realizing Kre'sar's omission.

"And vat of Lady Mishalea?"

Kre'sar seemed perturbed. "Oh blessed?"

Slit dropped the point. It wasn't too important. He thought… hoped. Kre'sar would bear watching, however. If his insanity led him to cross the lady…

"Vat is your message?"

"There are those non-believers who fear your righteousness. They would strike you down, General."

Slit peered at the mage. "Give me a straight answer."

Kre'sar hissed, "There is one amidst us who covers the falseness of their heart in cries of devotion! The worst sort of heretic! But the darkness shall wash h-"

At that moment a liveried officer ran up shouting, "Supreme General, sir!" His eyes flicked towards Kre'sar for a moment and he added a much stiffer, "General." The officer saluted smartly and then rapped out, "Sir, an enemy force has engaged us some two minutes to the west. They're sheltering in a small outcrop of rocks, sir. Your orders?"

Slit could already taste victory and he relished the flavor. A self-satisfied smirk marred his already considerably ugly features. He ordered, "Bring our forces about! Ve'll give sem fire and steel! Ve'll-"

The officer cut him off. "What of our allies, Supreme General? The relay men are all in place…"

Slit turned a demonic glare on his subordinate. He had absolutely no intention of allowing those fools to steal any of his glory. This was his day. He would defeat the Shining Force. Slit snapped angrily, "Send von courier to Lord Solo. Anoser to General Cameela. Sey are to tell sem sat ve have se situation vell in hand. If ve need further assistance, ve vill send it by vay of anoser man."

The officer didn't look very happy, but he threw a salute. He started away, but Slit grabbed his shoulder. "No. General Kre'sar vill attend to it, and sen report back to me." The mage bowed stiffly. Slit continued, "You vill have se honor of fighting by my side." He started marching off as he commanded the officer, "Inform se oser ranks; ve vill turn about to face sese bold varriors."

The officer's eyes were downcast. He muttered, "Sir, yes sir."

Slit gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, "Do vell here and sere may be a promotion in it!"

---

Eiku glared at Cellion through puffy eyes. The archer sat, ram-rod straight. Breathing shallowly, Eiku clasped his subordinate's wrist. "Two hundred… two hundred riders, dammit. Want them ready. Go. Soon as possible. Catch… catch the others."

Cellion clamped a fist to his chest, bowed, and set off immediately. Eiku struggled not to breathe very hard. Bloody centaur had cracked a couple of ribs with his futile last riposte.

_Not so futile. Bastard. _

This incapacitation could hardly have come at a worse time… A dry chuckle escaped his lips at that. He probably would have considered it a 'worse' time regardless of when it actually happened.

_You got me good centaur._

Now the only thing that he could do was to lie back and play the waiting game. That didn't much bother him, in and of itself; on the contrary, Eiku was not much a one for sleeping. He preferred to lay abed awake, ruminating and polishing his ideas.

But this forced inaction of any kind galled him. He was not comfortable being without the relief of pacing. With an effort, Eiku dragged his mind away from such pointless and mundane matters.

Wounded or not, he had a war to win. The best way to do that was… well, truth be told the best way to win seemed to change hourly. All he could do was to hope he'd set the right threads in motion.

While he wasn't comfortable with Slit campaigning off under Mishalea's orders rather than his own, at least Cellion had sent that mage after the lizardman. If Cameela tried anything she would fail and be charged with high treason. The prospect brought the shadow of a smile to Eiku's lips.

No, the more he thought on it the more he became increasingly anxious to know what Warderer was up to. Although, all such matters were as good as folly until he knew the best way to draft the report on the current situation to Lady Mishalea.

_"Oh, I'm sorry to report, milady, that those prisoners I captured have escaped. I was just going along to interrogate them when there they were just around the corner. I was so shocked that we managed not to recapture them, but I did slay one who gifted me some cracked ribs before dying. The others were more fortunate." _

Just thinking of it forced a chuckle past his dry lips. A moment later he was bent over with spasms of pain. He gasped, "Fucking… ribs!"

After settling back into comfortable discomfort he put the issue out of his mind. It would be best not to say anything about the incident until he knew of the results of Cellion's search party. Although perhaps he might be prepared to blame Tarbeck…

Eiku rejected the notion after a moment of thought. Tarbeck knew more than enough to damage him, and anyway, Eiku needed the gaoler. Tarbeck had been the very soul of usefulness thus far. No need to throw away such a useful asset.

He tried to think of what else he would need to work on now. And that left… "Paezorta." His voice was unusually husky, he noted absently.

Another voice, this one high enough to be squeaky replied, "No. I go by a different name."

_Hellsteeth!_

Eiku started to struggle into a sitting position, his ribs screaming in protest, when something wet flopped over his face. As his last conscious thoughts were fading, Eiku decided that he must be hallucinating.

---

The old man and the girl propped Vankar up against the tree as well as they were able. The drunken centaur's eyes were wide open, his moustache foul from retching and blood seeping from the wound in his back.

Kokichi had set the wound as best he could, but he was far from satisfied with the result. To be sure, adventuring in his youth had taught him how to treat wounds, but he was no healer.

Vankar's head lolled to one side as he rasped "Should have left me. I'm slowing you down."

"_Heh_, never you mind that. We need your strength."

Vankar's breath came choppy and harsh. "Damn you… old man. I'm dying. No good for it. Hurry up. Save… save the girl."

"No you're not," countered Kokichi. "_Heh_, I know what I'm doing with that prick in your back."

Vankar's gaze looked slightly glazed. He abruptly shifted the subject. "Earnest… Earnest now. He was the best of us. And how I hated him for it. Walking wine-skin. All I ever was."

"Earnest had his flaws too, _heh_." It was a weak argument, and Earnest's sacrifice had been, possibly, the saddest thing that Kokichi had ever survived. He knew that the brooding centaur had blamed himself for the death of Karin. Saving them all like that had been atonement for him.

_Aye_, he thought blackly, _and what will be atonement for us?_

That was not a question he cared to linger on, however. Vankar's breath fanned his face as the centaur insisted, "Cut me loose. Can't do any good fighting if I'm like this. Promise. Promise me, Kokichi."

"You're not a hopeless case yet! _Heh_, and what of Lord Max? What of our duty to him and to the girl, _heh_?"

Vankar gasped, "Damn you." The centaur struggled upright and fell over again. Kokichi reached down, steadying the fallen warrior. The old man found Vankar's eyes again. They were full of fear and a little sadness too. "Damn you," whispered the centaur.

---

"Slit's gone to give the Shining Force battle?" Cameela's voice was numb with disbelief. Perhaps she should have seen this coming. Perhaps not. Cameela had, so far, had only one meeting with lizardman and it was not an experience that she would care to repeat very often.

Mishalea's Supreme General was very tall, very bulky, and very arrogant. She muttered, "Gods, he's drunk on glory."

The courier stiffened. "Have a care how you address the Supreme General, ma… wench."

Cameela might have laughed at that had it not been so pathetic. "Why? If he moves against me then we pull out, distrust is everywhere and the Shining Force is at your throat."

"You… you would not dare."

"Wouldn't I? Perhaps you should speak more softly to me. At a flick of my fingers you will be dead. Men are dropping everywhere in this war."

The courier gaped for a moment and then burst out, "Your judgment is amazing, General!"

_Lickspittle_.

She raised a hand imperiously, "Take this message back to your master. He is a fool to take so rash a course with his own men without investigating the situation further. This is his battle. I wash my hands of it."

The courier had been growing steadily whiter as the message went on. He bowed, looking slightly numb and sped out of the tent. Cameela leaned back, pensively. She already regretted her outburst a moment ago, but, the courier probably had enough sense not to relay her message accurately. There was some good to be found in that, she supposed.

Her position here was a gratingly uncomfortable one. Mishalea had demanded that this operation be undertaken with such speed that Cameela had not had ample time to further familiarize herself with the tactics of the Shining Force. It made her nervous. Slit and Solo both had had that leisure. Furthermore, if there was to be treachery from either of those two, she would be targeted, she was fairly certain.

Cameela held the center of this network with Solo to the north and Slit to the west. They might equally well fall on each other, but…

More than ever she was also concerned about the attempted hit. Who amongst Mishalea's officers would want her dead? She had offered no offense that she could recall to any of them. Or, was it Mishalea herself who had ordered it? But what purpose would that serve her if she sought to crush the Shining Force? Mishalea was ambitious, not stupid; surely she would see that she couldn't simultaneously wage war on both Zeon and the Shining Force?

And then… there was Odd-Eye. He had been much in her thoughts the last several days. She had been noting many of his finer qualities, a response that was troubling her immensely. Surely, she couldn't be…

But it was as though the moment he had saved her, self-doubts had begun to gnaw at her heart. Cameela genuinely wondered why she had made her life the way it was. She wasn't interested in power for its own sake; she was good at her work and took pride in her accomplishments, but someone with her skills could have easily made an honorable living anywhere in the world. Why did it matter whether or not Zeon ruled with an iron hand?

_King Zeon gave me my chance_, she reminded herself.

She should be feeling only loyalty to him, she knew. And yet, Cameela wondered.

---

"And so, my dear Harkan, you took your measure of the Lady of Darkness?"

Harkan sat, ram-rod straight in his chair his face stony, and his words lucid. "I would not say that Lord Solo. I had some brief words with the lady."

The general of Iom gestured languidly about his richly furnished tent, "Some brief words once won me a battle. They can be enough to gather a sense, surely?"

Harkan considered the point for a moment before replying. "Perhaps. An intuition is a risky thing though. I would say that she seemed… troubled, my lord. Aye, perhaps a trifle wearied."

Solo mused aloud, "So Mishalea is feeling the steel jaws of her own trap, perhaps? Or, mayhaps she's suffered from some sort of set-back?" He turned his customary smirk upon Harkan. "You've done well, old friend."

"I'm pleased that you're pleased, my lord."

Solo glanced at the leader of his Nar with some curiosity. He would never understand Harkan's loyalty to him, he supposed. Loyalty, honor, duty… such silly concepts. Such foolish ideas. One should be loyal to those that could be useful, that Solo certainly believed. And yet, Harkan was loyal exclusively to him. No, he didn't suppose he'd ever truly understand that.

Aloud he said, "And on to the next matter of business. How is Alshar coming?"

"Your fortress is very nearly complete, Lord Solo."

"Really? Last we spoke on the matter you said there'd been delays."

"There had been, Lord Solo. I attended to them." He added, somewhat unnecessarily, "They were starting to draw attention. When King Warderer visited."

Solo rose from his seat and paced over to the entrance flap. He was not pleased. He'd hoped the building would be delayed a while longer than that. If it was not, however, then it was not. And that necessitated moving his plans forward at a much more rapid pace.

He moved briskly back to his chair and turned to Harkan. "In that case, I want you-"

The tent flap opened and a nervous looking soldier poked his head in. "What do you want?" spat Solo. "I gave orders not to be disturbed."

The man fell to his knees in nervousness as he croaked, "My lord… a… a _courier_ from, ah, Slit. That is General Slit. I mean, Su-"

"Oh shut up," he snapped. "Show the bloody fool in." The man stuttered silently for a moment and then staggered out of the entry way. A moment later, Slit's man marched in, stiff at attention.

Solo rose slowly, fixing the courier with an icy gaze. The man stared straight back as he said courteously, "Lord Solo."

Solo imperiously flicked his fingers. "What does Slit want?" A less courteous response to be sure, but that was to be expected.

The courier, far from perturbed, answered smoothly, "Supreme General Slit wishes to inform you that his forces have come under attack by the Shining Force. In response, he has taken the field against them. At this time, there is no further news of how the battle fares. I am meant to establish communications in the event that the General will need help."

Solo was quickly weighing up his options. The easiest thing would be to do nothing, of course, but he was wary of making a mistake after King Warderer had made that surprise visit… _Already the building delays nipped in the bud…_ Improvising rapidly, he burst into laughter. In between spurts of giggling he gasped, "Haha- oh, that fits- Hahahaha- so… so very-hahaha- perfectly, Hahahaha- doesn't it, haha- Harkan?"

Harkan laughed dutifully along with his master. The courier looked vaguely surprised. Solo, maintaining the mock laughter as best he could, invited the courier to share wine with them. His fortitude was admirable, as he held out for some few minutes. But in the end, the courier gave in. Solo smiled thinly. He had judged the man correctly. Ultimately, this man was of the lower classes and simply couldn't resist taking wine with a lordling. Or feeling like he was being treated as a lordling.

He started off, still trying to be under control, but Solo was careful to keep the man's glass full. He then proceeded to raise his own glass to the courier's health. The courier responded by toasting Solo. Solo then toasted Harkan. Harkan dutifully made toasts of his own. Before long the courier was completely drunk.

He staggered to his feet, perhaps to make a speech. If so, Solo would never know. Nor did he much care. He gave the slightest of nods to Harkan. The lord of the Nar was on his feet suddenly, steel unsheathed and the courier was dead.

Harkan complained, "I don't see what purpose killing this one serves."

Solo smiled coldly. "That's unimportant. Just remember, Harkan. _He never came_. The communication was never established."

"What communication?"

He smirked at that. "And that soldier. Breaking his discipline. This could be most bad for the morale of our army. We'll have to make an example of him."

Harkan bowed, albeit stiffly, "I'll have him arrested at once."

"Very good… but bide a while longer. We were not finished before this interruption."

Harkan retook his seat. "My lord?"

Solo pressed his attack boldly. "The winds of change are here Harkan. Now. We must move swiftly and ruthlessly if… Iom is to survive." Harkan gazed at him, unblinking. Solo knew that his favored lieutenant obeyed without question, but still… He might well question the orders Solo was about to give. He said abruptly, "The Shining Force will be broken by this blockade. In order for Iom to survive, however, we must strike before the others believe that we shall strike."

"Hence that?" Harkan gestured carelessly over at the body.

"Aye," said Solo. "If we do things this way, then Slit's army will be considerably weakened by the time he crushes the Shining Force. The crux of our plan, however… is assassination."

Harkan considered briefly and then asked, "Cameela?"

And now to toss the dice. "No. Barbara."

Harkan continued to sit, his face unchanged. "Barbara," he repeated flatly.

Solo said quickly, "The only way to assure ourselves of Iom's survival is to know that Mishalea and Zeon will fall on each other first of all. Cameela would have been a good choice, but she's too well protected. By the gods, Barbara's a cripple now! This is the last way in which she can serve our cause. If we kill her and indicate that Mishalea was behind the deed, Zeon will have the excuse he needs to go to fly off the handle! Trust me, I've seen that mere suggestion is enough now…" His voice trailed off.

Harkan slowly rose and walked towards the tent-flap. Before leaving he said curtly, "I do not question your orders, Lord Solo." He paused for a moment. "But I do think that this is a mistake."

---

Hans stared sullenly at the table. He was seated amongst a sea of unfriendly faces. To be sure, they all spoke to him courteously enough, but he could feel the contempt in their eyes.

_I ought to have filled my mouth with wine instead of words on the dais,_ he thought sourly. _My big mouth will be the death of me, I swear it_.

Queen Koron rapped the table imperiously. Her voice was strong, "We must needs prepare for the darkness ahead. Already, an army sails on us." Her mouth was a hard line. "I will not have Pao smashed and raped by the likes of such. We will draw a line here, a line that will break them."

Luke leaned across the table, "Let's just start with the facts. What sort of military maneuverability do you have?"

Xotho's eyes danced with laughter. "Pao possesses the best mounted horse you'll find. Anywhere."

Hans stared at the warrior with misgiving. Arrogant, proud, vain…

Luke waved that aside, asking intently, "Numbers?"

Koron broke the momentary silence. "The tribes haven't been large; not since King Pao the Overlord hundreds of years ago. We can muster a total of perhaps two hundred."

Xotho's lips twitched derisively. He said nothing though. Torl rubbed his jaw with his fore-finger musing aloud, "We won't be able to have numerical superiority over them, but perhaps…" He made a vague gesture. "We're strongly placed, here in Uranbatol."

Koron shook her head. "Not so strongly placed as all that. Should we stay here… we won't be able to survive a war of attrition, and they'll be able to force their way through the harbor."

"Seems t'me," put in Viktor, "that I've been right successful with fightin' base on geography." He lapsed into silence, stroked his beard and then abruptly roared, "Might we not be able to prepare some sort of advantage in traps and natural qualities of grasslands?" It was a very particular oratorical peculiarity that Hans had previously noted in the miner. He would build up volume in his speeches regardless of the circumstances.

Lieutenant Haiden frowned. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, seems to me-"

Xotho interrupted loudly, "Shouldn't we finish with the muster count, first?"

Jarl spoke quietly. "Indeed. As you know, both Guardiana and Alterone have suffered heavy losses in the fighting thus far. With reinforcements from Manarina and Bustoke stiffening our troops we have, perhaps, a total of sixteen thousand five hundred men at our disposal, all told."

"An impressive force," returned Koron.

Jarl said gently, "Not so compared to the fury that Mishalea will soon throw down on us."

Koron ground her teeth, "Yet we must… _must_ do our duty, no? If we have such powerful numbers then it might well be possible to meet them on the plains. My lords, I would propose a plan. Pao has no cover, but we are here first and we can take up entrenched positions, first."

Luke broke in, "Might I make a suggestion, Your Grace?" Koron nodded her assent. "The overall majority of my forces," Hans clenched his fist at that, "are composed of foot." He took a breath before continuing. "Your warriors fight with spears, I'm told?"

Xotho bridled at that. "And swords," he spat. "We can use any number of weapons with great skill, _sir_."

Koron didn't even glance at him. "Enough. You know what Lord Luke meant. And yes, my lord. Am I to take it that you entertain a notion to create a front-rank of my horse so as to have an intimidating rank of spears, afforded even longer reach by being mounted…"

Luke continued where she left off, "So that we have the advantage of distance. Our force of mages can be offering cover for the horse so that they won't be neatly picked off from afar, while the foot spreads out to the left and right so as to be on hand once their first charge gets inside of spear range."

Koron nodded, pleased. "I was going to suggest a very similar plan my lord. I bow to your military judgment."

_Our judgment_, thought Hans. He had learned war from Lord Max and Lord Commander Varios before him, just the same as Luke.

Torl said cautiously, "It has potential…"

Hans snorted. That was like Torl. He was aging and old men tended towards caution as a rule. And that was to say nothing of the lesson he had learned at Alterone.

Viktor started to ask, "What abou-"

Koron said distantly, "There is only one method of the sort of warfare that you encourage on the Pao Plains, Lord Viktor." The miner turned as red as a pomegranate. Koron continued thoughtfully, "A van composed of our horse, the left and right of foot, a back-up force of mages and the center…"

"Aye." Luke sounded pleased with himself. "Torl and Jarl will have the right and left respectively, Lord Otrant, the rear. As for the van-"

"I should take it," announced Xotho.

"No," said Koron. "We must needs leave a small force to defend Uranbatol at all costs. If the enemy gains the fort, the battle is as good as lost for us. I would trust none other than my finest warrior to hold it against such harrowing odds."

"As you say, Your Grace." Hans frowned. Koron seemed oblivious to the edge in Xotho's tone. From all he had seen, Koron had only one thing that Xotho didn't and that was blood. Xotho was strong, well-liked, bold…

_It is nothing_, he told himself.

Koron continued in tones that brooked no argument. "Lord Luke will take the van."

Luke inclined his head politely. "A great honor, Your Grace."

Koron turned at last to Viktor again. "And you shall take the center."

The miner protested, "I'm not what you want, Your Grace, not me. Couldn't… why not let Lord Hans take it, I-"

Koron smiled. "I have another task in mind for Sir Hans."

Choosing to ignore the slight, Hans contented himself with a slow drawl, "Oh, another task to be sure."

"There is a risk that we shall lose this battle. If that happens…" The little queen clenched her fists hard. "I will _not_ allow Mishalea to gain Pao. I will not allow her army to survive." She glanced at Viktor. "This is what I meant earlier sir." Turning to Hans she asked simply, "Do you recall the plateau overlooking all of Pao?"

"Yes." His tone was cautious.

"On the day of the battle you are to go there with all your gear, I'll see that you have everything prepared."

Hans reddened. "By myself? What can I hope to accomplish so far from the battle?" He was abruptly ashamed of his wine-thickened voice. He had eaten but little all the while drinking more than enough.

Koron ignored the question. "There is one natural advantage we have in our battleground. Grass _burns_. If, on the day of the battle, all hope is lost it will be to you, Sir Hans, to loose flaming arrows stretching across Pao. If we are defeated then they'll share the funeral pyre."

There was dead silence at this pronouncement. Doubtless more than a few people were shocked or outraged at her drastic suggestion. A slow, contemptuous smile formed on Hans's face. "You want me to _burn _your fucking fields?"

Her eyes were hard. "If the need is great enough."

There was another lengthy silence. Xotho looked at Hans curiously, a speculative expression on his face. Torl broke the stillness abruptly. "A splendid task for you Sir Hans. You are eminently suitable for it."

He stiffened at the slight. It was true, he was probably the best marksman they had, but he knew what this really was.

_Wretch. I saved your fucking town. _

The boyish shout rang out then. "Your Grace!" Koron looked vaguely surprised as Alain rose to his feet, arrogant, bold, and handsome. "If it please Your Grace, I will assist Lord Viktor in his command of the center."

Viktor seemed completely lost. He gaped at Hans. "But what about-"

Koron ignored him. "You… yes. You will make a suitable replacement if Lord Viktor would refuse the command. He may conduct a special division of his own."

Hans reddened in anger. Where had he made so many enemies? Alright, _if_ they did lose the battle he could understand that Koron would desire to make it a pyrrhic victory for the enemy, but this was little more than excuse to pack him off to where they could forget he was even in the battle.

He studied that sea of pale, cold faces. For once he managed to keep his anger from spilling out. Koron looked smug, Torl well-satisfied and Alain was manfully trying not to gloat. Only Jarl had the decency to clear his throat. "Your Grace, Sir Hans-"

She interrupted him immediately, "Will be in charge of one of the most important aspects of this battle. Is there anything else to be said my lords?"

Hans's mouth twisted. He managed, "Would Your Grace consent to allowing me to speak with my colleague, Lord Luke? _Alone_?"

She nodded decisively, "If that is your wish." She left the room, the others quickly following. Torl, Haiden, Alef and Otrant didn't even spare him a glance. Viktor shoved him playfully as he said loudly, "Go get 'em, eh?"

As Jarl passed he nodded politely. "My condolences."

Finally the two of them were alone. Hans waited, but strained silence was his only answer. Finally he snapped, "She means to slight me."

"It's an honorable-"

"Dammit Luke! You're my friend. You should have looked out for me a little better." His words came choppy and harsh. "I can… I'm generous. Loyal to my friends. I've proven I'm no craven and surely my wits have to count for something!"

Luke's voice was thick with disgust. Or was it despair? "You haven't given these people cause to love you Hans. You mocked Torl and bungled the job in Alteron-"

"Don't you say that," roared Hans. "I _saved_ Alterone!" He lurched to his feet, shouting, "But you! You take the credit for everything. You send me off to do nothing but chaperone Alain, who hates me now! You claim that all Torasu was good for was serving you?"

At that, Luke was up on his feet, his fist swinging. Hans caught the blow, a glancing one close to his left eye. He staggered backward, staring resentfully at Luke. Luke, however, flinched. He extended his hand. "I'm… sorry. I should not have done that. That was… that was not lordly." There was something sad and small and lost in his eyes.

Hans slowly rose to his feet, feeling ashamed. But there was nothing more to say.

---

They were in full retreat. The thought was bitter to Ian. He hadn't expected them to break through the blockade, but a defeat at this juncture could crush morale, soundly.

Running backward, he ducked beneath a swiping blade, taking a swing at the nameless soldier's legs as he did. The man screamed at the impact. He sobbed, "Yield. I yield sir. Yield!"

Ian was back upright, and that was when the axe crashed a hairsbreadth from his face. He took another step back as Slit screamed demonically, "You!"

It took Ian a moment to recognize him, but he was no less startled by the revelation. Slit had improved vastly since that day Cellion had captured Ian. Ian noted a liveried officer running alongside the lizardman, and at that, took his chance.

Still moving backward he jerked his blade straight out, into the officer's bowels. It would be a horrible death, but Ian was in a hurry. The man fell into Slit's path tripping the Supreme General up. Slit's heavy tail cracked around to the side, whipping the man out of the way as the lizardman jerked convulsively bringing his axe down in a heavy, futile blow, which wiped out the officer's life.

And in a moment, the chance that had brought Ian together with that foe melted away and the swordsman was running again.

He killed more as he ran, but there was only one truth to Ian, stark, terrifying and desolate. The vaunted Shining Force, champions of the light, protectors of the peasantry, voices of justice… the Shining Force had suffered defeat.


	35. Chapter 35: The Battle of Pao

Chapter 35:

The Battle of Pao

Moonlight glinted off of his sword. Lynx stood on the swaying deck, studying the polished metal. Tonight… he would go forth and do battle. He had already sworn the oath to himself, yet he swore it again. By the love he held for his lady, the plains would fall.

A shadow moved in the background and gruff voice asked, "Well?"

Lynx said softly, "We have to wait until there's evidence of Clatt's engagement at the fortress. If we're there too early, it defeats the purpose."

Number One snorted. "Why the hell would you put so much trust in that fool?"

"He's powerful."

Number One laughed scornfully and patted his sword. "I'm powerful. He's a fool."

"If you don't understand why, you probably never will. And a fool? You still think he's a fool after hearing his strategy out?"

Number One was silent for a good long while. Lynx stood, waiting, and watching. And thinking of her. Finally his old friend growled, "I've learned a lot of things in my life. Some good, some bad. Most important one is this; don't trust it."

A smile twitched its way onto his lips. "You don't trust me?"

"No." Lynx had to chuckle at the deadpan delivery. He turned to his subordinate, but Number One's face had a very serious note to it. Lynx paused. Number One growled, "Never… _never_ trust the things that you love. They're the ones that kill you, every time."

Lynx stood, completely still. He had always loved his honor he supposed… and Mishalea. He was loyal to his friends, terrible to his enemies… and yet… and yet there was something in what Number One said, surely.

Finally he forced the words out of his throat, raw though they were. "Old friend I never… you must believe me when I say that I… I didn't mean to-"

"Excuses don't matter a damn," snapped the grizzled, bearded old general. There was a bare moment of silence before Number One changed the subject. "So, what positions do we take?" His voice was thicker, though.

Lynx knew the question that he wanted to ask, but he knew equally well that he'd never get it out. He replied, "I'll take the center, you have the van. Fat Man holds the right wing. The left is already covered."

"So that Fat Man holds the most difficult position? I suppose he's more experienced than whoever you've found for the left but still…"

"You never liked him."

"Wrong," growled Number One. "I just never trusted him."

Lynx was silent then, for a time. What he had done to his old friend had been… cruel, he supposed. That didn't sit well with him. Lynx certainly could be ruthless but he wasn't a cruel man. He started to open his mouth, when he was riveted by the sight of an explosion of fire.

He turned, his tone curt. "That'll be Clatt. We sail in for the main the thrust."

---

Hans looked at the barren, rather desolate plateau which he had been ordered to hold. Aye, and to use if necessary. Truth be told, it was little more than a low cliff jutting out from the mountains that led back to Bustoke.

His guide was a Pao warrior, tall and sinewy. The man glanced around, strode over to the watch-fire, pulled out a flint, and started the flame. He bowed and said, "My pardons, Sir Hans. I must rejoin the vanguard. Lord Luke will be seeing to positioning, even now."

Hans nodded in return, his voice a shade stiffer than he meant it to be. "Thank you. You've been a good guide."

The man gestured languidly. "As you can see, there is everything you might need here. Food, water, your equipment, a blade should you need it, the flint, wood, and oil. Everything. As you requested."

"You've been very kind," Hans told him.

The man had already turned away and started the descent. He glanced back up, shaded his eyes and shouted, "Luck, Sir Hans. And may the gods be good."

_Yes_, he thought sourly. _May the gods be good. Let's just hope old Hans doesn't have to do anything at all. They can just pack me off up here and hope to forget me._

Before he had left, he had tried to keep the bitterness out of his eyes.

_You could have admitted my worth, damn you. Would it have been so much to bend those bloody stiff knees of yours? _

Hans had never been a perceptive person and certainly hadn't always understood other people's emotions, but his own could be fairly complex. It was true that he had been slighted… and yet wasn't there something in what Luke had said? Wasn't it true that he had, in some measure, precipitated these events?

Abruptly Hans shook his head, savagely.

_Luke lied. Of course he lied. He had to…_

And yet, Luke _had_ apologized in the end. The words had burst out and that seeming despair, that lost expression in his eyes… Surely it wasn't _all_ feigned? What was it his old friend had said to him?

_"It's different when you're a leader." _

Despite everything though, Hans wasn't ready to let go of his bitterness. Luke had proven himself to be a great general, a reputation resting on more than one enemy engagement. If they won at Pao today, Luke's reputation and Luke's fame and Luke's arrogance would be firmly rooted. And Hans would be cursed to obscurity, remembered only as the one 'unsuccessful' commander at Alterone.

His blood simmered with anger. Unsuccessful? He had done as much to free Alterone as anyone. Luke's thrust had been good, in retrospect Hans even admitted that it might have been the decisive moment that had won the battle, but it had been a collaborative effort. Luke would never have had victory if Hans hadn't seen to the distraction…

Luke had claimed the honor of that victory though and he had blamed Hans for the death of Alterone's pathetic excuse of a king. Hans's gut clenched as he brooded on the injustice of it; a bloody _battle_ had broken out and it was all Hans could do to keep himself and Alef alive, never mind looking after his royal idiocy. Torl had blamed him too, but Hans didn't mind that so much. He understood the man, though he didn't like him much. The treachery of the king had forced Torl to taste the truth, and the truth is a bitter draught. Small wonder he preferred blaming a convenient target.

Luke though… By the gods, Luke should have clapped him on the shoulder, granted him a smile, or some sort of approval! And Torl. Well, he could understand the general, but all the same Torl should have kissed the hand that had caused Magus such disarray, but he had preferred to scorn the arse who hadn't protected his king.

_As if I was a sworn sword of Alterone. And His Grace was a traitor, no matter what he did in his last minutes. _

Even Alef had been silent and Alef had been there with him, in the Great Hall! It would have been in her interest to speak up and elevate her role in the battle a little bit, but she had remained silent as well.

Hans paced over to the watch-fire, upset. More than ever he was recalling Luke, not as the man he had grown to be, but as the little boy who had been Hans's friend. Bold, charming, impulsive… Yet even as a small child, in playing their games, Luke had always wanted to be in charge. He usually had been too.

_They were playing at swords that day, as they had done so often. And they called out names, the names of great heroes. Both boys solemnly swore to each other that they would be great heroes when they were older. And what a game it was, using everything they had as they sparred with each other, pretending to be King Pao the Arrogant, Ternja the White Knight, and, of course their favorite, King Guardiana. _

_Hans shouted it first that day and rather than shouting back Luke had said, "You can't be King Guardiana. You grandfather was a wine merchant." _

Hans tasted blood on his tongue.

_He never thought I was good enough. _

Nobody had ever supposed Hans to be good enough for anything. His father had been disappointed in him; his mother had made excuses for him. Luke had hoped to dominate him; Various had largely overlooked and ignored him. His oh so vaunted comrades of the Shining Force preferred to scorn and mock him. Only Max had ever been fair to him… and Max had never once lifted a finger when the others taunted him for having a man's weakness.

Feeling sad, and even a little scared, Hans paced back over to the edge of the plateau. He might have continued in his fruitless ruminations if fire shooting up from Uranbatol hadn't caught his attention. And so it began…

---

A rough hand jostled him to the side. Alain said smugly, "Keep out of my way, would you? I have a _command_ to see to."

Viktor's craggy eye-brows shot up. "So ye do," he agreed amiably. "A command o' arrogance and combin' yer hair!"

The young centaur did not respond, but walked off stiffly, his shoulders tight. Viktor felt a little sorry for Alain.

_I shouldn't o' taunted him. The lad's doin' his best an' it must be 'ard to get that invested in everythin' that happens to ye. _

Viktor silently promised himself that he would do better in the future. He ran his hands down the rough shaft of his pick. Most of them wouldn't consider it much of a weapon… but this pick had served Viktor well all his life. Aye, in some battles too.

Slowly the miner strolled forward, when abruptly he stopped, squinting towards the water's edge. He chuckled then, and went off in search of Lord Luke.

Truth be told, Viktor supposed it was a good enough thing that it was only Alain he had to deal with. Torl and Haiden treated him like dirt and Viktor wasn't comfortable with Lord Otrant. To be fair, Lord Commander Jarl was always courteous, but Lord Commander Jarl was also far from the center. As for Sir Hans… well Viktor liked him well enough. In all honesty, however, he mostly felt sorry for him.

As Viktor sorted all of this out he finally spotted Lord Luke, mounted in the Pao fashion of course, already geared for war and shouting out orders all the while looking very lordly.

"Lord Luke," Viktor bellowed up at him.

Luke paused, nonplussed, and then saw Viktor below him. He responded, "Viktor? I don't have any time-"

"Thought you might be wantin' to know that the enemy's ships have come into sight, m'lord." Viktor gestured languidly towards the water.

"Thank you, Viktor, but I already happened to know that. You'd best hurry back to your place." Luke turned back and started shouting again, "Everybody in their place! Now."

Viktor stood there for a moment feeling completely embarrassed. Of course Lord Luke would have arranged to be told. After a moment or so, the miner scuttled back.

---

Clatt was finding that confidence came more easily to him with each correct tactical decision that he made. His stammer was also much less noticeable.

"Th-they're giving us f-fi-f-fire arrows!" It came out as a nervous squeak. Inwardly he cursed himself. He was one of High Commander Lynx's general's now. He'd have to be better than that.

Smacking a fist down on the railing, he screeched, "T-two c-c-can pl-play at that game! M-m-mages! Fire back! All your power!"

He peered forward. Thankfully, none of the flaming arrows had yet struck the ship, but if his men didn't give them better cover soon, it would only be a matter of time. He squinted at the leader of the opposition he'd encountered. A tall, rangy man with long-flowing hair. He was barking out orders as well, though Clatt couldn't hear the gist of them most of the time. He also roared out curses. Would that make his men more obedient, the mage wondered? He decided to try it.

Spinning around he clapped his hand on the first available target that was just moving past him. Gaining in confidence, Clatt shouted, "I said, fire y-you cringing c-cu-c-"

His voice drifted off as he stared in shocked recognition into the face of General Riker. He squeaked, "Ah, th-t-that i-is, General! I, ah…" stumbling over words he blurted out the first thing that came to his head, "l-lead a, cha-ch-charge!"

Riker studied him for a moment before asking curtly, "To what aim? Your mages would likely be killing my own men."

The words tumbled out of Clatt with all the speed he could muster. "If w-w-we k-keep s-s-sn-snip-sni-s-sniping a-at them w-w-," he paused to get his tongue under control, "Won't get anywhere!" he gasped. "T-ta-take the city! G-go-g-good w-way t-t-to turn th-the ba-b-bat-battle i-in o-our f-favor!"

Riker looked at him long and hard. Abruptly he unsheathed his steel. "As you wish."

Clatt sighed in relief. This leading business wasn't going to be so hard after all.

---

Lynx's mouth tightened with displeasure. Evidently the tribesmen of Pao had been able to reach their allies.

_Aye_, he thought sourly_, and their troops have been stiffened by a goodly number of battle-hardened warriors. _

To add insult to injury, their tactics were working. A good long van of mounted horse was proving difficult to penetrate. On both flanks, Number One and Fat Man had tried their best, but the losses were mounting.

_And their ranks remain unbroken_.

Lynx tried to console himself with the knowledge that it was only the first charge. It wasn't much good. His troops couldn't even retreat from the engagement without being struck hard by mages from afar. Well-protected by the ranks of cavalry and foot.

All the same… the order had to be given. Lynx snapped at his aide, "Give the order for the ranks to start retreating. And have our columns of archers lend some cover as they do."

He didn't relish this retreat. It would be a bloody business, but merely throwing what troops he had left in nigh unbreakable ranks of cavalry was the worse decision. He stood, watching as the retreat order was given. His men started to pull back, but so did…

A wordless fury filled Lynx at the sight of the charging foe. He should have seen it coming, but he had been too blindly arrogant.

_Gods be good, I've let them play me. I'm fighting to their strengths, not them to mine!_

He had made the unforgivable tactical error. He had played into his opponent's hand. Of course they would have realized that if he gave a retreat order and had enough time to think through his next move that their greatest tactical advantage would vanish. And now his troops would be largely caught in the shallows where their fighting would be clumsier.

Lynx swept his blade up as a mounted warrior charged towards him, catching the unfortunate man high on his chest. The lifeless warrior tumbled into the water.

Lynx, dodging a lance thrust, attacked again. The battle had deteriorated into slug-fest. Perhaps his superior numbers would be the telling force. Perhaps not. The High Commander, however, had one last, glimmering hope. Armies were often demoralized at the deaths of their leaders.

---

Viktor charged heedlessly forward, laughing wildly with each foe that he laid low. Time seemed to move slowly and he could see nothing more than the move of arms, but his, he always knew, were faster, more accurate and deadly.

His pick slammed into an enemy soldier's face and the man fell, dead. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Viktor knew that the battle fever had come upon him.

_Just look, me, a miner, and drunk on slaughter_.

But there was no more time for thought, only that man dead and that one and that one, and that one. He crashed on towards a group that was standing firm against the onslaught, and paused admiringly. _Brave men. I should go kill them!_

He became aware of warriors following him, shouting, "_Viktor! Viktor! VIKTOR!_"

If he hadn't been so busy killing he would have laughed aloud at how they knew who he was. And that was when, like a lightening bolt, a blade blocked his pick. Standing in his way was an older man, bearded, and grizzled. He seemed vaguely familiar but Viktor had no time for that. How outrageous! How dare this man stand in his way and stop his pick?

He howled with primal frustration, but even as he rushed forward the man growled, "You're this Viktor? With a mining pick? This shouldn't be difficult."

The sound of a human voice, so very close to him, made the miner pause for a moment as the onslaught of insanity faded. But his opponent had not paused and Viktor cried out as the sword slashed his shoulder.

He spat, "Ain't like you can kill me wit' that thing, but that didn't exactly tickle!"

His opponent did not deign to reply but merely leapt forward with surprising speed for such a big, older, man and slashed horizontally. The cut would have opened Viktor's ribs had he not quickly spun his pick down, deflecting the attack.

The bearded man, unfazed, started a shuffling series of advances and retreats. Viktor took the opportunity to hop-skip forward and slammed his pick down with all his might. The man managed to catch the blow with his left gauntlet, but his left arm looked quite limp.

Viktor excitedly began moving forward again, but the man abruptly charged at him and Viktor barely got his pick up in time. Rather than retreating, the man strained against Viktor, pushing and Viktor strained back. For what seemed to be an eternity, they stayed there, when the shaft in Viktor's hand twisted and his pick slid past the oncoming blade…

---

Hans watched the battle from his plateau with a cynical eye. He had been rather more impressed than he would ever have cared to admit by the success of Luke's tactics. Even from his far outpost, Hans could see that the Pao cavalry had wreaked huge damage upon the enemy's first charge.

Catching them half in and half out of the shallows hadn't gone quite so well, from what little Hans could make out, but the attempt had still been a masterful stroke and the battle was going adequately.

He turned away. What was it he had been thinking? The truth is a bitter draught. He had ascribed that, naturally to Torl but…

_I find it just as bitter as he did._

Hans had not wanted to admit it to himself, but in the end, there it was. He could rage all he wished, he could point out everything that he wished, but he was, in some measure responsible for the mess he was in. He had blown the whole situation somewhat out of proportion.

_Luke is… was my friend._

Perhaps he wasn't anymore. Perhaps he never really had been. Certainly, Hans's complaint had justice in it. Many had purposely slighted and mis-construed events and Luke had never lifted a finger to stop it.

His shoulders hunched. He had not wanted to understand how deeply perception alone was at the heart of this matter, but up here, in his solitude… he could come to no other conclusion.

And that was when he heard deep panting and the sound of footsteps approaching. He looked up abruptly and, to his shock, Queen Koron stumbled into view.

"Your Grace? I thought you were-"

"No time, sir," she gasped. "No time at all. Quickly. You must unleash your arrows."

He frowned in puzzlement. "The battle is far from lost," he told her. "Might Your Grace like something to calm your nerves?"

"NO!" she shrieked hysterically. "You don't understand sir! The enemy… there's another ship pulling in, more reinforcements."

"Even so," muttered Hans. He got to his feet and started turning back to the side facing the battle. "Where…?" Even as his eyes started scanning for the sight of this new ship, something heavy thudded into the back of his head.

---

She ignored the fallen archer muttering testily, "It was time to end this farce anyway." Finally the opportunity had availed itself that she had been waiting for! She had hoped it would come while in Bustoke, posing at that old fool's niece had been tiresome. Nor had she appreciated Hans's clumsy fondling.

She sniggered as she seized Hans's bow and fitted an arrow to it. At least she had settled Jon the Alchemist. Carefully she dipped the oiled arrow into the fire and then, standing, released the flaming harbinger of doom. In rapid succession she repeated the process for several more arrows, chuckling as each one struck the plains and the fire spread.

She stayed, just long enough to admire her handiwork and then turned away, transforming back to her true shape. Unable to resist, she risked just one more glance over her shoulder and at the sight of the chaos, Kari smiled.

---

Lynx had been fighting his way expertly to shore, when he saw some man dueling Number One with a pick. And then the pick slid past Number One's guard and struck him in the torso. Lynx's blood froze. Number One staggered slightly, but before he could react the pick jerked up, into Number One's face and…

A moment later Lynx was running towards the man screaming as he tried to grasp the fact that his old friend was now a nameless corpse floating in the waves. This man, stooped of shoulder, bald, heavily bearded, heard him, but a second too late. He turned, his pick raised for a smashing blow, but Lynx was faster and his blade ran through the murderer's stomach.

The man looked shocked as he fell over, his arms carrying through with the motion that cracked the pick hard against Lynx's plate mail. The High Commander didn't care.

Numb, having already forgotten the vanquished foe at his feet, Lynx sank to his knees, cradling his old friend's corpse. Number One's face was a red ruin. Lynx raised his tear-filled eyes to the sky and saw fire. He stared, wide-eyed at the roaring inferno everywhere that was eating through troops on both sides.

He managed to rise to his feet, Number One's lifeless body in his arms. And that was when a great roar of flame, flew past him, though, as he followed its course he saw that others weren't so lucky, and slammed straight into his flagship, _The Honor_.

For a bare moment Lynx stared, uncomprehending as _The_ _Honor_ exploded into a worthless, flaming mass. And then a truth, a terrible, terrible truth sank in. He had been beaten. High Commander Lynx, the second most powerful man in Mishalea's chain of command had lost.

"Retreat," he screamed. And sobbing it over and over, he turned away. Lynx never looked back to see if the army had broken with him.

---

Viktor coughed blood as he fell, the waves lapping at him roughly. Funny to think how he had forgotten his own mortality for a while…

A hand seized him and a voice called, "Viktor! Damn you, you're not dying."

His eyes squinted open. He wheezed, "Lord… Alain." The young centaur was dragging him back towards the land. And towards heat, now that he thought on it. Was that just part of dying? "Don't do that," he complained. "It's not comfortable."

The boy ignored him muttering, "No true lord. H… _Sir_ Hans saw that true enough. Why didn't I?" Alain seemed quite shaken.

_Death,_ thought Viktor. _Hans had seen death, m'boy, and you hadn't that's the truth o' it. _

Viktor tried to pull back, but he couldn't feel it happening. Abruptly he tumbled to the ground. Alain, seized him again, but somewhere, the miner must have found some strength. He grasped Alain's arm and looked up into the boy's weary, sad eyes.

_He looks older_.

"Tell him…" gasped Viktor. "Tell boss Zylo. Never him. Puny… puny, sword arm, y'understand? It wasn't this prick in me… wasn't that did it! Tell him…" His grip tightened on the centaur's arm. "Promise. Promise me Alain."

The answer seemed long in coming. "I… promise."

"Ah," Viktor sighed. He fell back with a sort of relief. Not really quite so messy to die, as he'd have thought. Weren't wounds in the gut supposed to be extraordinarily painful?

But then that was fading too…

---

_"We're leaving," Riker had told him at sword point. _

_"N-no we're not!" Clatt had resisted, he had reasoned, he had threatened, he had pointed out that it was his command! Riker's eyes were hard and flinty and the sword at Clatt's throat was sharp. _

"_Commander Lynx will need us. You've seen that fire man! We're leaving." _

Clatt sulked as he thought on it. Being told what to do with his own command! But Riker was unmovable and the mage lacked the courage to find out if Riker's bluff had really been a bluff.

It didn't stop him from sulking though. He had been so close to taking Uranbatol! The last charge had nearly broken them. Of course it had. That was when Riker barreled into the cabin and shouted, "Get out here! Look at this!"

The ship had rocked violently abruptly and beams had fallen from the roof. When Clatt could see again, Riker's sword was lying on the deck, and Riker was trapped behind two beams, one with a jagged point.

"Help me," begged the general. Clatt started to extend his hand, when he had a better idea.

He bent down, picked up Riker's sword and stammered, "N-n-no." At that he thrust the sword through Riker's chest. The blade fell from his hands, as abruptly, the terror of having committed murder came home to him.

Clatt took several deep breaths. There was nothing to fear, of that he could be certain. He could say that Riker had been pierced by that beam, after all. Or, better yet, have nothing to do with the body at all. If Riker were found later, it would seem quite natural for him to have been killed by this accident. Best of all, the blade was already stained from the battle, so no need to do anything about that.

Clatt carefully put the sword back where it had been, safely out of Riker's reach. He then slipped out of the cabin, hoping that the chaos outside would be so great that no one would know when he had come out on deck.

As he peered at the plains, the mage was momentarily struck dumb by the sight. Lynx's army was in full retreat and fires… well they burned on the plains. It looked as though the Shining Force was trying to control them.

A voice shouted, "Ho! Ho! Toss me a rope!"

Clatt peered over the rail, and, to his surprise saw Fat Man, running waist deep in the water after the ship. The mage dutifully tossed the general a rope. As Fat Man started to make his way up he gasped, "It's all lost! Where's Riker?"

"Oh." Clatt had forgotten about that. "He's dead. You can't talk to him." Fat Man gaped at Clatt for a moment before the mage blasted a sphere of energy into his former colleague's chest.

Clatt watched Fat Man fall back into the water and then shrugged it off. Why shouldn't he be High Commander Lynx's _only_ general anyway?

He turned his back to the rail and noted with satisfaction that the men were running all over the place paying attention to nothing. That was something at least. Another voice rang out then, this one hoarse and tired, "A rope."

Clatt peered over the rail again and there was High Commander Lynx, carrying… Number One? Well, he wouldn't have to engineer anything with that, at least. He tossed the rope down and Lynx managed it, barely, as he dropped Number One on the deck.

His voice was exhausted. "See that my old friend is well treated. Riker? I saw Fat Man's corpse."

In the delicacy of the moment, Clatt's nervousness returned to him. "R-r-r-Riker? M-m'lord." He thought wistfully of the moment when he had killed Fat Man, so confident. He hadn't stammered then. He managed, "D-d-d-dead."

Lynx sat, his shoulders scrunched together as he stared at Number One's lifeless form. He didn't seem to hear anything. Clatt ventured, "M-m-m'lord? O-orders?"

Lynx didn't even look up.

_No matter_, thought Clatt resolutely. Regaining in confidence with his rivals successfully slain and his command restored, Clatt went about ordering the full retreat.

---

Consciousness was slow returning. A caustic voice remarked, "So. The traitor joins us at last."

Hans's eyes cracked open. He thought vaguely of his last memories and then struggled to come upright, unsuccessfully, as he spluttered, "Reinforcements she said! Koron."

A hard kick came from behind. "Silence, dog."

Slowly Hans's wits returned as his eyes made note of the scene before him. Pao had been turned to ash, it seemed. Koron sat, seated on a makeshift wooden throne a dozen feet from him, with Xotho standing to her right.

The warrior's eyes met his and they betrayed that same curiosity, that spark of interest that Hans had noted the night of the banquet. There were… what, perhaps eight other Pao tribesmen there? Not including the two who flanked him. That was when he noticed, his hands were bound and he was kneeling. He attempted to rise, but the man to his left kicked him again.

And there was Luke, haggard and grey-faced. Luke's eyes were sad and small, his voice hoarse. "Oh Hans."

That did not, Hans thought, bode well, but he began anyway. "Your Grace, I-"

"Silence!" shouted Koron. There was no mercy in her gaze, only cold, focused anger. "It would seem that subtle treachery was not enough for you."

At last Hans grasped the implication. He gestured at the landscape in wordless fury and choked, "You're blaming _me_ for this?"

Koron met his incredulity with steel. "You are on trial for your life sir. It would behoove you to say as little as possible. I will still grant you a clean death."

A slow contemptuous smile flitted across Hans's face. "Men say I have shit for honor because of Alterone. And you presume to give a trial without hearing my evidence. Very just, Your Grace."

His words provoked greater anger. One of the warriors screamed, "You near committed fucking _genocide_!"

Han's voice was sharp. "Oh, really? Where then is Jarl and Torl? Where is Otrant? Where are the rest who would be concerned if the charge was so serious?"

"They are tending to their fallen. Fallen at _your_ hands sir." Koron's voice was ice-cold.

"Fallen at my hands? You idiot! Whatever else you may believe of me, Your Grace, I am not a stupid man. I would never have attempted such a half-witted scheme." In his anger, he forgot the words he meant to say, of how he had met Koron and a blow on the head. Instead he shouted, "How do you think I got that wound on the back of my head? Why did your men find me bloody unconscious?"

"You could have caused that wound yourself."

Her self-serving answer only served to enrage him further. "Call on witnesses to attest to my character, then," he spat. "Lord Commander Jarl will speak, aye, Viktor of Bustoke." He added, "Alef! Call Alef!"

Koron's eyes tightened. "Do not think to escape justice with your pretty words! Near all of my tribe are dead at your hands and your own precious friends too! It's a shame you call for Viktor, he crossed swords with Lynx and died for it. Your own treachery killed Alef."

"What?" His anger was near simmering now. His gaze shifted to his one-time friend.

Luke would no longer meet his eyes. The dwarf was fairly radiating shame. He muttered, "Alef… Alef turned her power to sink one of Lynx's vessels. Last thing she could have done. Would have died in yo… the fires, else."

Koron abruptly slammed her fist down on the arm of her makeshift throne and screeched, "_Enough_!" She pointed an angry finger at him, "Your self-serving lies go no further! You shall be put to death now! Xotho!"

At that, the greatest of the injustices Hans had had to face, something inside of him snapped. As one of the Pao warriors was pulling him to his feet, he jerked his arms up, catching the man on the chin. The warrior fell backward, his head at a crazy angle.

Koron screamed, "Kill him!"

The other Pao warrior came at him, blade in hand, but Hans threw himself forward. His arms still got sliced. But the ropes came loose and his hands were free. With a growl of pure rage he lunged at the warrior. The man fell, hard and Hans came up with his blade.

He ran the warrior through. At the last, Luke bestirred himself. "Hans, no!" Before he could move, Luke was atop him. Hans slammed all of his weight backward and heard a crunch. He staggered upright and looked at Luke… unconscious he thought… hoped…

For a moment Hans felt remorse but then he reminded himself, _No. That bastard would have let me die. _Hans had had enough of the bloody cold. He would never accept anything again.

Hearing a sound behind him, he turned around the sword slashing open the face of the closest warrior. The man fell to the ground, screaming. Hans bounded towards Koron, blade raised. She cowered and screamed, "Xotho!"

Xotho easily blocked the cut, and then turned, his sword sweeping down in a deadly arc, killing a warrior coming up behind Hans.

Koron gaped in terrified silence. Xotho smiled easily, "What do you say, Lord Hans? If you join me-" He never finished the sentence.

Hatred gripped Hans at the self-serving schemer. He, Hans, was standing up for his own justice at least. Unthinkingly, Hans seized a large rock and crashed it into Xotho's head.

When he looked again, Koron was gone. He turned to the remaining warriors and the rest was murder with a red smile.

---

Hans was walking along wearily. He had fled the scene of massacre. No longer would he feel remorse. Hans had always done what was necessary and he was finished being lied to and used. Even Jarl… well he had probably had some insidious purpose the whole time. Like Lord Max. Doubtless it had been Lord Max who had been behind Luke.

It was very late and his old life had been left behind. It was, he thought, symbolic that Pao had ended in ash as had the last of his illusions. He was close to the water now. And that was when he walked right into her.

Queen Koron stared at him in a numb sort of horror. Behind her was the shadow of Uranbatol and if he went there… Jarl.

Lips twitching, Hans growled, "Run." Koron still stared at him and that, somehow, he couldn't stand. "_Run_," he told her.

And just as suddenly she turned and dashed towards the shape of the fortress. For a good long moment, Hans paused, staring towards Uranbatol, holding the bow-string back. At last he released it, and, after a moment of looking along to satisfy himself of the result, Sir Hans formerly of Guardiana turned and walked away.

Queen Koron was quick… but not as quick as an arrow.


	36. Chapter 36: Shadows on the Wall

Chapter 36:

Shadows on the Wall

Max read the first line of the letter a second time, his voice flat. "Your Grace, Queen Anri, and Lord Max; I regret to inform you that His Grace, King Regis I of Alterone, has perished, most like some weeks ago by the time these words reach you."

There was utter silence for a moment and then Max said, heavily, "_Regis_?" somehow making the name a curse.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Ian asked languidly, "What else does this, er, fascinating article contain?"

Max was already scanning the lines. "Hmm, says that he communicated with General Torl right away and that Torl authorized him to see to the basic administration of Alterone until a more suitable arrangement can be reached."

At that, Ian sat up, interest on his face. "Does the letter mention how King Regis came to be dead?"

Max grimaced. "Merely that he fell from his horse, apparently ill, and died shortly after."

Ian's smile was characteristically sardonic. "So there's nothing definite."

Max's tone was grudging. "Oh, he's making a point certainly. He's signed it, 'Ward of Guardiana, Lord Regent of the Realm.' He also sealed it with Guardiana's official seal. Oh yes, there's a message in this."

Anri spoke sharply. "Lord Regent of the _Realm_? Is he basing that on a temporary position of authority in Alterone?"

"Not necessarily," Ian pointed out cheerfully. "If Torl also meets with an unfortunate demise then the nobility will have rather a difficult time reversing anything he said in regards to Ward; particularly seeing that Ward will probably be ensconced in the position by then."

Anri looked very hard at Ian. "Are you merely trying to be perverse, or…?"

"Or what?" asked Ian with a smile.

The tension was almost too much for Domingo to bear. Upon reinstalling himself in these meetings, against his better judgment, he had been surprised to find how little Anri's presence had actually affected him.

He was very conscious of wanting her, but his general response towards her, or rather, lack thereof, troubled him. Had he, all along, merely loved the _idea_ of Anri, without knowing the woman? He sincerely hoped not, but he knew better than to assume he knew anything about himself anymore. All he knew for certain was that he was capable of whatever anyone else was capable of. He hoped he never had to find out how true that was, though.

After the last several days Domingo had, and not without a struggle, reaffirmed what meant most to him. He would follow Lord Max as loyally as he could. Aye, and Anri as well.

_The things_, he thought self-deprecatingly, _that we do for love. _

Domingo sighed, turning his attention back to the others. He frowned, realizing that the implication was still left dangling. Hanzou finally asked the difficult question, "You suspect Ward of murder?"

Max looked extremely unhappy. Rubbing his jaw worriedly, he muttered, "I'm not sure…"

"_I_ am." Anri's voice was layered with steel now. She scowled, first at Ian, second at Hanzou and offered Max a withering glance. "The Lord Regent may have much to answer for, but regicide?"

Max responded though he did not, Domingo noted, meet Anri's eyes. "You can see as clearly as we do Your Grace, that this benefits Ward personally as well as Guardiana. Going by the knowledge we have of his character-"

"And what knowledge is that?" Domingo was genuinely surprised. Anri had always been level-headed, slow to anger, but she seemed furious with Max. And he wasn't meeting her eyes…

"Your knowledge of Ward all revolves around the fact that he never liked you. What do you honestly know of the man?"

Max seemed confounded by the question. Finally he sputtered, "Well, I mean… Ward isn't…"

As Max's reply faded, Mae said quietly, "My father never trusted him."

Anri hesitated at that. Well, no wonder. It was easy enough to claim that Max couldn't judge Ward objectively, but to even hint the same thing of Lord Commander Varios… Domingo said weakly, "Don't we have better things to discuss?"

Anri threw him a grateful glance. It was electrifying. Domingo shifted uncomfortably. It was appalling enough, to his dignity, to be enslaved to her beauty. Why did she have to make it more difficult than it already was?

Max had also taken the offer very enthusiastically. He leaned forward eagerly, "Yes, that's so. Our concerns with the blockade and our subsequent engagement must be explored in some small detail."

For the first time, Ian's sardonic amusement flickered. He grimaced, "We lost that battle."

Gort snorted, "Nonsense. We got whit we were ahfter."

Domingo averted his eyes. By an unspoken agreement, he and the old dwarf were quite ignoring each other. Having gotten over his bout of extreme melancholia, Domingo had found Gort's not entirely sane threats to be… much more disturbing than they had seemed at the time. And Gort was all too willing to avoid any contact with _him_.

Ian replied unhappily, "Perhaps so, but it was a defeat. And defeat… defeat will improve their morale."

Mae's voice was ice. "We weren't looking to defeat them, though. We were testing their defenses."

Ian stood. "Aye and Slit turned his forces about to _face_ us. Retreating under such circumstances is easily perceivable as defeat."

Max stepped into the awkward breach. "Regardless of how it may be interpreted, that engagement was necessary. I needed not only to test the strengths of this blockade, but also Slit's own mettle. I know something of him now."

That was quite a fair point. Even Ian seemed to accept it. He nodded, and abruptly sat down. To Domingo's mind, Slit was absolutely insane. After all, the lizardman had turned his forces to face what could have been a minor raid. "So pointlessly mad…" Domingo's voice trailed off as he realized that he had spoken his musings aloud.

Max muttered. "Mad? Aye, it was mad. Brilliant too, though. I would never have expected it." He lapsed into brooding silence for a moment before turning to his nephew, "What can you tell me of him?"

"Very little. I met Slit once, briefly. He had two others with him, but he was the only one to walk away alive. He was quite pathetic then."

"Hmm… well at least he seems amenable to taking bait. But this blockade as a whole… It'll be difficult to circumvent, let alone collapse."

Mae cleared her throat significantly. "If, Lord Max, you will recall that I put to you a proposal in that regard…"

Max's voice was hard. "I told you then, and I'll tell you now. No. I will _not_…," he paused for a moment as though searching for the right word. "Not condone assassination. How can I claim to stand for justice if I break basic principles of decency, Mae?"

The centaur stared back, her face perhaps more static than ever. So Domingo was more than surprised when the words burst out of her, almost hysterical. "If you were half the man Kane was-"

A mask of stone crashed down over Max's features. His arms slammed against the table, his shoulders slumped in a kind of defeat as he managed, "NO! You will not…" His voice faded as he remained in the hunched over pose. It made Domingo think, rather uncomfortably, of a fallen king.

When Max spoke again, he sounded completely exhausted. "I loved my brother." It seemed amazing how one sentence could be simultaneously so powerful and so inadequate. Mae remained still, her head held high, points of color in both cheeks. She said nothing though.

In fact, Domingo realized quite abruptly, there was absolute silence. His gaze roved over those present. Hanzou… Mae… Anri and Gort. Lowe and Ian. Lord Max… and himself. Domingo. Domingo. Domingo.

With the exception of Ian, it was almost like the old gang was back together again. But of course, it wasn't. Some of them had gone to their graves as Jogurt had. Others weren't present. And of those who remained… it wasn't the old gang anymore. New tensions had sprung up between them all, fissures and cracks. Nothing was the same.

He glanced at Anri whose relations with Max were clearly strained. Even if they hadn't bickered at this meeting, the tension was thick and heavy in the air.

_Sexual tension_, thought Domingo bleakly.

His eyes continued in their silent study. What was Mae thinking? What had ever happened to her that she should speak so angrily to Max? Domingo certainly didn't consider himself an authority on emotion, he could only barely understand himself after all, but Mae had always struck him as an ice block. What went on under the surface…?

And Gort, of course. Domingo felt uncomfortable around the old warrior for more reason than one. Naturally, the threats passed had disturbed him, but what really scared Domingo was how well he could understand the insanity that had claimed Gort.

He could still hear the old dwarf's voice, blurting out that old secret_. "Ah trusted hem! Ah was loyal… Ah believed… Ah fought for hem. Killed for hem. Ahnd he took me wife." _

Domingo shuddered thinking how well he understood that searing hatred. His own love for Anri was a simple enough affair; he just didn't have the balls to hear her laugh at him and it was knife tearing through him every day. But to have loved and admired a friend… and to have that friend betray you like that… No, Domingo most decidedly did not envy Gort.

At long last, Lowe broke the silence, "Might I have a word with Max?"

Max replied, insincerely, "Of course, but there's no need for you all to go."

Mae said politely, "I would prefer to attend to some personal business." Max nodded, his eyes roving over the rest of the assembly. Anri surged to her feet, also ready to go. Max paused and raised a querying brow, first at Hanzou, and then at Domingo.

The ninja murmured, "I should be watching… but mayhaps…" Finally he finished. "It is no matter. I can do nothing." He settled back to his customary position, leaning against his chair, watching the scene intently. Domingo studied the older man for a moment. Hanzou was, in a way, somewhat elegant looking in his black silks and his long, grey-streaked hair. Astute. That was how they would remember Hanzou in a thousand years, Domingo was certain. Astute.

Realizing that the others were waiting on him he said quickly, "I'll just escort the ladies out."

As Domingo floated out of the tent, he heard Gort saying behind him, "Thihnk Ah'll beh goin' too."

Domingo sighed, grateful for the chance to get a breath of fresh air. Before he could turn back, to go on in, however, Anri stepped up beside him, smiling. "Thank you," she said. "That was… very gallant of you, back there. You've been a good friend to me, Domingo."

_I've_ _loved you_, he thought resentfully. _Hated you._

"I'm just glad that I've had a chance to know you. You're a very special person, for more reasons than one."

Hating himself for not being able to maintain a silence, Domingo began, "Your Grace…"

Laughing lightly, she held up a hand, "Please Domingo. I both trust and respect you. I'll be Princess Anri to you for as long as you like."

He blurted out as the pain clutched his innards, "I… I must be seeing to the meeting in there."

She smiled again, a bit sadly this time. "Of course, I didn't mean to detain you." She hesitated for a moment and then said, "Domingo?"

Scared though he was, he turned his head to look at her. She continued softly, "If you speak to Lord Max… well I don't think he'd be willing to hear it from me. But if you speak with him, please tell him that… that I didn't mean all those things. Not…" she took a deep breath, "not the way he took them."

Not trusting himself to speak, Domingo nodded and turned about, taking leave of his lady. Now that she couldn't see him, he allowed his face to twist with agony.

He thought wretchedly, _How could I have told her what I meant to say and still think that she would love me?_ But another part mocked him, _Fool of a fool! She's never loved you._

As he reentered the tent, Lowe was speaking urgently to Max. "Max, _listen to yourself_! If it matters that much to you then you shouldn't be letting these rifts grow any larger! You should go to them, if it pains you that much. Why won't you listen to reason?"

Abruptly Max laughed, a rough gust full of scorn. "You know, when I was captured by Warderer and spoke to my brother… Aye, I told Kane how foolish he was being. Now maybe I understand a little of what he was trying to tell me."

Lowe held up a placating hand. "Very well, I won't press you at the moment. But…" his voice changed. "In that case, there's Gong."

Max surged to his feet and snapped bad-temperedly, "I trust Gong. Why this constant harping on him?"

"Because _I _don't. Especially after Arthur. I tell you, Max, there was no way that he could have brought Arthur out of that fever so conveniently unless…" Lowe suddenly stopped.

Ian stepped into the breach as tactfully as he could, "I too have noticed that Gong seems to be… a little odd, shall we say, Uncle?"

"I would kill for a cup of wine," muttered Max. Finally he lifted his gaze, studying the lot of them there. Lowe, genial, concerned… and perhaps Max's best friend. Ian, the nephew that Max trusted implicitly. Hanzou… Hanzou the astute. At long last Max's eyes settled on Domingo.

A tired laugh burst through his lips. "Alright," he surrendered. "But this goes no further than this tent without my say-so." Max paced over to a side table and poured himself a glass of wine. Sighing deeply, he began, "Are any of you familiar with the name, Kalvar?"

---

"I just wish I'd been nicer to him, Dawn. Is that such an unusual thing?"

"Perhaps not," the centaur capitulated. "I was sorry to hear that he had died too, though I don't see that you weren't nice to him. He was pompous."

"That doesn't excuse bad manners," said Natasha sharply. "I liked Slade well enough. I shouldn't have treated him as poorly as I did."

Dawn shrugged. "As you will." She stifled the impulse to add to her opinion, that if Slade wanted to be so very pompous then he deserved the treatment that he had gotten. But, Dawn valued her friendship with Natasha too highly to risk a breach over something as minor as _that_.

Instead, she changed the subject. "So how, er… how are things with you and, um, Deanna?" Dawn considered herself well in control of her emotions, but she couldn't lie to herself over this; she didn't like Deanna very much and she didn't like his hold on Natasha's affections.

Hearing the note of distaste in Dawn's voice, Natasha laughed, "If you want to ask about Deanna, why don't you get to know him?"

Dawn said sharply, "I can't get to know him. He won't let any of us get to know him. How well do _you_ actually know him?"

"I know him as well as I need to," Natasha said defensively. "Honestly, Dawn, it's not all-"

"Natasha, you don't know anything about him!"

"I've spent more time with him than you have and…" She broke off tearfully and then said, "I don't want to fight with you about this. Can't you just accept that I'm interested in him?"

Dawn opened her mouth, and then closed it. There was, she concluded regretfully, no way that she could convince Natasha of her point of view when all she had was a vague feeling of mistrust. _And Deanna has never actually given us cause to distrust him. He just hasn't given us cause to trust him either. _

As the strained silence went on, a new voice popped up, "Hoi, ladies."

Dawn raised a querying eyebrow at the owner of the voice, a bandy-legged, bald, red-faced, and overall fat monk. "Why Luke," she said pleasantly, "have you been taking lessons in courtesy?"

Most men would have flushed with shame at such an insult, but Luke was not most men. "Ah," he grumbled, "can't you stick to being the strong and silent type, Dawn? Makes you much prettier."

Natasha asked, "Well, what do you want?"

He jerked his bulbous head towards a tent, "Eric wants us all to have a meeting."

"Oh does he?" Dawn turned to Natasha and said in a low whisper. "We might as well go and find out what he's up to."

Natasha seemed on the brink of righteous anger. "If I find out that this is another one of his dumb pranks…"

The two women followed Luke in silence. In truth, Dawn was gratified to have an excuse to keep an eye on Eric. Though she distrusted him, Deanna had not, as far as she could see, intentionally upset anything. Eric though…

As she entered she saw that Eric had gone to the trouble of setting up a makeshift podium. She snorted slightly and curled up, near the back. With a shrug, Natasha took a seat next to her.

Eric looked around and said smugly, "It would appear that we're all present." He cleared his throat, and thrust a finger upward before beginning. "Fellow Cyprians! We are in… ah," he paused and hastily scanned a piece of paper and then bellowed, "turbulent times! We are in turbulent times, fellow Cyprians."

Natasha giggled aloud at his lack of oratorical skill. Eric didn't deign to respond to that, but the corners of his arrogant mouth tightened. "We have, ah, been dealt a most serious blow, I guess, and uh…" as more smothered giggles came from Natasha a flush crept up his neck, "Um… that is, we've lost our castle and regicide has befallen us." He cleared his throat again. "However, I ah… that is I would propose that we, hmm… well our, ah, leadership… um… leadership has… has not been," he took a deep breath, "all that it could be!" Sounding more confident he went on, "You all knew my good and dear friend, Jaha, and you all saw what our bold leader, um, Deanna, had to, well, say about all of that. And now, another of our, erm, comrades lies slain and er…" he coughed, "Deanna does nothing!"

Luke bellowed, "Eric!"

Eric shot him a confused glance and then started again, "I therefore motion that we… that we, um… that is… er…"

A quiet voice said from behind Dawn, "Oh. I hope I'm not interrupting a meeting? Or is this an impromptu gathering?"

A cold prickle ran up her neck as she glanced at Deanna. That had been… opportune. Eric flushed, seemingly cut off in mid-sentence.

Deanna smiled at nothing in particular and said, "I see then. An impromptu gathering. What are we talking about?"

He settled down, looking intently at Eric and Dawn, grudging though the silent concession was, had to admire his deftness and skill.

---

Vankar's mouth lolled open. He croaked, "Ko…chi," before tumbling to the ground.

The old man looked wearily down on the fallen centaur. _Again_? Bending over, he managed to start yanking the centaur up. Kokichi wheezed, "Strikes me, _heh_, that what you need is-"

Vankar grimaced. "Please. No more of your stories."

"As you wish. _Heh._"

The centaur looked worse than ever. Despite Kokichi's best efforts, the wound had started to reopen and there was a stink of corruption about Vankar as well. Mayhaps a touch of fever, aye, and certainly his wits were slipping. Nonetheless, the old man refused to give in.

_If I can't even save my own companion, drunkard though he is, I deserved to die at Mishalea's leisure. _

With difficulty the wounded centaur focused on his face. Kokichi frowned. What could Vankar want now?

The centaur husked, "Promise me. _Promise_ me Kokichi. Can't make it any further, damn you. Damn you all, they're after us." He left off momentarily, rasping hard. Squinting at the sun he suddenly shouted, "You've seen… trail they're leaving. Riders dammit. They'll catch us. Leave me. Might be, they'll take my body as a sign of battle…" His voice grew faint. "Promise me Kokichi."

`"_Heh_," began the old man, but the centaur held up a weak hand and rambled through the protest.

"No arguments this time. No sneaky word games about… about Lord Max. I may," he gasped, "never have been much, but I'm not just dying to let Earnest know I couldn't hope to gallop alongside him." He took a deep breath. "Damn you, for the girl. Leave me… for the girl… and," his voice was very soft now, "for me. Leave me… so I can tell myself the lies… the lies that I need to hear me say."

Kokichi bowed his head, solemn. Already he was breaking his oath, and for what? A bitter smile twitched onto his face. Because the centaur had _asked_ him to. He replied somberly, "As… as you will."

_As I must. _

He had never felt so very old as he did now, preparing the ground where he was going to abandon… a friend he realized. He and Vankar had never been friends, nor close, but on this journey…

_We may know nothing of each other, but we are friends now._

He picked a tall, strong oak and propped Vankar up against it, leaning the lance into his hand. Tears in his eyes he managed the one word, "Goodbye."

As he started to turn away, Vankar begged, "Old man… old…" he paused, fumbling at something in his hands, "Old friend. Take… take this to Lord Max." He tossed a dark brown something over. As Kokichi leant to pick it up, he realized, in shock, that it was Vankar's wineskin. The dying centaur spoke once more, "And tell them… tell them I wish I'd been a better man."

Too overcome for words Kokichi embraced Vankar and then turned and left, to go far, far away.

After a few minutes, he glanced at Krin and asked, not unkindly, "_Heh_, I hope that wasn't too hard for you…?"

The stone-faced child looked at him in genuine surprise. "No. Should it have been?"

Kokichi's mouth set itself. Of course, the girl had seen too much suffering in her time to have cared much about some unknown protector. Her family and friends murdered, her pet slaughtered, her home razed… Why should Vankar or Earnest have meant anything to her beyond a small debt of gratitude?

Kokichi sighed and put it out of his mind. He was, he realized, very old.

---

"On your knees, traitor," shouted one of the noblemen, "before the true Warden of Cypress!"

Uglu looked tired. Doubtless he was. It had been exhausting day for all them. Dava frowned thoughtfully at the shouting nobleman, a certain Lord Oskrim, she believed.

He had been amongst the first to bend the knee to Uglu and had remained loud and boisterous ever since. Though he was not so old as Vensic, this Oskrim wasn't a terribly young man. Dressed in velvets, thoroughly stout, and sporting a fiery red beard, the nobleman unsheathed a small dagger shouting, "As it please you, Lord Warden, allow me to show the loyalty of Cypress!"

Uglu's tone was characteristically mild. "Hold." He peered at the proud man beaten into kneeling before the throne. After a moment Uglu began without preamble, "Why do you defy me, Lord Tyrin?"

"Dammed if I'll let a usurper sit the throne," he bellowed.

Oskrim gasped in outrage. "Lord Warden, he speaks his… his infamy to your face! Vile treachery!"

Uglu merely held up a hand this time, not bothering to give words to the command. Oskrim relapsed into silence. Uglu then made the same answer to Tyrin that he had made to Kashing. "I am not a king."

"You hold the throne of our anointed king by treachery!"

Uglu smiled thinly. "And yet," he countered, "I found you in the dungeons, Lord Tyrin. You followed Edmond who is now called usurper. Changing lords is not such a new experience for you."

"Edmond had a claim-"

"As have I." Uglu's tone was amiable, but assertive. "The claim of all the laws of conquest."

Tyrin sneered, "What conquest? _You _couldn't defeat us in battle, King Nicholas smashed you! You may hold this castle through treachery for now, but you won't! You'll fall!"

"I am not the rightful ruler of Castle Cypress? If that is the case, then don't you find it passing queer that Sanctuary was not roused to destroy me?"

At that, there was a collective silence. Most, if not all, of these so-called lords were lying, cheating, self-serving scum. Nonetheless it was certain that they could not ignore that vital point. Dava's lips twitched. She could have told them all a thing or two of Uglu's claim to legality. It would be an excellent point with which to regain the advantage.

"If you do not bend the knee," Uglu warned him, "then I shall be forced to treat you as my enemy, Lord Tyrin. Bear that in mind before you answer."

Tyrin spat scornfully on Uglu's boots. "Never!"

Oskrim gave vent to a bellow and launched himself forward, the small dagger in his hand. In a moment Lord Tyrin lay crumpled and lifeless before the unblinking eyes of the Lord Warden of Cypress.

Uglu's pale eyes flicked towards the blood-stained dagger. He said mildly, "I do not believe that I authorized an execution, Lord Oskrim."

A dull flush crept up the other man's face. He stammered, "Forgive me, sire-"

Even softer now, "I am not a king."

Oskrim pressed on, doggedly, "Forgive me, m'lord. But when he spits on you… he spits on all of us. On Cypress."

Uglu smiled. It was a chilling sight. "Now, that is quite right Lord Oskrim." He raised his voice, "Everyone here should take note," he indicated Oskrim with a tilt of his head, "of Lord Oskrim. He is clearly an honest and loyal citizen of Cypress."

"Thank you, Lord Warden."

Uglu paid the interruption no mind. "On the other hand," he continued smoothly, "He acted with my jurisdiction in such a way that might cause some to question the justice of my reign. I will not, however, let it be said the throne does not reward loyalty to those who serve it. Therefore I raise Lord Oskrim to the title of Warden of the Western Isles."

Immediately a hubbub of excited whispering broke out. Oskrim stood, flushed crimson. Dava had to admire Uglu's skill. It had been very deftly done; no one could say that Oskrim had not been generously compensated, but there was rebuke in the post as well, one of which all the nobility present would take notice.

For, though Oskrim was, in a single stroke raised to great lordship, being named Warden had a price: Marriage.

And, though none said it to his face, at court, Lord Oskrim was hinted to be notoriously disinterested in the singular charm of women.

Uglu called out above the noise, "All audiences for the day must be adjourned. If you have a case for my approval, return on the morrow." He rose decisively beckoning at her, "Come, Lady Dava. And you too, Lord Vensic. We have things to discuss."

He then retreated to the private chambers to the right of the throne. Dava followed, noting absently that the room was very well-furnished. She took a seat without waiting for him to offer.

Uglu's jaw clenched slightly, but all he said was, "Wine my lady?"

"No, thank you."

He nodded and seated himself as well just as Lord Vensic strode briskly in. Dava glanced at the unremarkable features of her grey-haired ally without much enthusiasm. Vensic made for charming company, but he had been distinctly vague as to what he would demand for her support. Dava didn't like it.

Vensic began immediately, "Ah, my dear Lord Warden, there are one or two little issues I had hoped to bring up. Although you've made a beginning with that decree today, _excellent_ choice in Oskrim by the way, there remains the matter of the other two Wardens, and if I might put forward a name or so…"

"By all means," Uglu told him. "Though your concerns are… somewhat unfounded. I've had a letter and the Southern Isles are taken care of."

Vensic stopped abruptly. He managed, "I'm afraid that I don't understand…"

"That's because there's no need for it. You serve me well Vensic and I'm not ungrateful. But I wouldn't dream of adding to your burdens, you have so very many as it is." Vensic nodded politely, but Dava could sense the trace of discontent in him. Uglu continued, "In fact, the more I think on it, the more it seems that poor Tyrin's demise may have been, oh, staged shall we say?"

"Indeed?" Vensic's tone was careless.

Uglu smiled, "Well wouldn't you agree that it seemed designed to… prompt me to act?" He waved a negligent hand. "Never mind any of that." He turned to Dava, and said in a grave voice, "Lady Dava, I fear that we find ourselves at something of an impasse." She studied that smug, self-assured face, framed by the long auburn hair and dominated by the shrewd, pale eyes.

_You took me off guard once, but not again. _

Uglu continued, "I would not betray my king…"

"But?" Dava prompted him. When he didn't answer she smirked. "Cypress is a chain about your neck, Lord Uglu. You can't abandon it and fail to keep your lords happy or you'll lose your throne just as quickly as your predecessor. May I know what you mean to do with Lord Kashing?"

"Lord Orr," he responded, using the centaur's ceremonial title, "is of complete irrelevance to this conversation. We may return to him presently."

Dava was fast losing patience with his stalling. "I've put it simply enough for you," she snapped. "You must accommodate your allies, my lord, or you must feed the crows. There is not a third option."

"You forget," Uglu told her. "You forget that I mean to restore justice to these lands. I would not betray my king…"

She almost screamed at the repetition, at the invisible 'but' behind his words. Managing to control her temper she snapped, "There is another way-"

"Inaction is a different type of betrayal," he interrupted her. "I am loath to disappoint you Lady Dava but I will not abandon my duties."

"In that case, Lord Warden," she replied in cold fury, "might I have your leave to retire?"

"Certainly, if that is your wish."

Dava nodded stiffly and set out. Uglu's refusal mattered only a little; as she had told him, there were other ways. With a slight smile she slipped out her focus gem. There were other ways.

---

Prince Nicholas allowed himself a slight smile. He was back in full possession of his faculties once again. He wondered what it had been that had made him so very… well, hysterical.

But that could wait. Affairs of state could not. He turned to Ruce and Mayfair, his face firm once more. He cleared his throat slightly and began, "I have called the two of you here because there are several matters that must be cleared up at all costs. The first and most pressing is the state of Cypress. Unfortunately, that cannot be pursued any further than it already has been; the coup has rendered that investigation impossible." He paused and then moved on, "The second point is one that must be examined deeply. I have reason to believe that there is a traitor amongst either our own friends or amongst the Freedom Fighters."

Ruce asked sharply, "On what grounds?"

Silently forgiving the insolence Nicholas replied, "Some enlightening conversation when I was escaping Mishalea's forces. It was pointed out to me that Uglu's coup was very clever. Doesn't it strike you as passing queer that it had so many blind spots at the same time?"

Ruce was not slow to grasp the implication. "You suspect a catspaw…"

"There is no other explanation that satisfies all of the points. I fear that our friend, Uglu, is being led by the hand… and his leader has sold us out."

Mayfair stirred, "What do have to go on? Whom did Uglu serve?"

"That," Nick admitted, "I have not been able to ascertain. The scale of the scheme indicates Solo or Barbara. The efficiency indicates Hindel. But I don't know enough of Gordon to rule him out."

Ruce said slowly, "Surely there are some names we can discount…"

"Evidently that is the case or neither of you would be in my confidence now."

Mayfair said sharply, "I refuse to believe that you think any of your friends would do this to us. I'm a realist, but even so, a king is careful with his trust. It must be someone in the Freedom Fighters."

Nick forbore pointing out that he might once have said the same to his father. _Uncle Edmond… _

Besides, that was not a point he wished to consider at the moment. Ruce, shifting uneasily, muttered, "Well, there's Cray…"

"Gyan spoke highly of him," Nick objected. "And he has done everything I have ever asked of him."

Mayfair said quietly, "Perhaps. But if any amongst us is, as you suspect, playing a double game, Cray is the most likely. We haven't known him long. Do you know anything of his background?"

"He was born in a small southern town, I believe. He's mentioned a sister once or twice as well."

Ruce grimaced. "And where does that get us?"

"Well," said Nicholas softly, "there's Deanna."

"I disagree." Nick raised his brows at Mayfair's abrupt assertion.

"Because?"

"Because I know your youth squads, Nick. Natasha, Dawn, Eric, Luke… A clever con artist might take them in, but I've been perfectly satisfied with Deanna. And Natasha's fond of him. I don't think she'd be so if she sensed anything less than a good person."

"All you have is conjecture," Nick replied coolly. "You say Cray is likely; Deanna, by the logic you applied, is even moreso…"

She retorted, "You only have conjecture for this crisis in the first place!"

Nick sat there silently, stung, by her flippant, if accurate, remark. Mayfair really was an amazing woman. He replied gracefully, "Perhaps this is so. We do have more concrete concerns."

She didn't look terribly pleased, but she allowed him the dodge. Nick said, "In this war we are at the mercy of the Shining Force… of Guardiana, ultimately. Lord Max is the soul of the Shining Force and Guardiana is the soul of Lord Max. We are beholden to him, and, though I'm not ungrateful, we must maneuver to make their gratitude due to us."

Ruce objected, "Isn't that a little extreme?"

Nick shook his head. "This morning, I received a piece of intelligence that tells me, in no uncertain terms mind, that Guardiana's Lord Regent has taken steps to absorb Alterone." Rather than allowing a moment of silence, he pressed relentlessly, "Alterone is Guardiana's ally… and Guardiana saved the crown. The Shining Force is poised to do the same to Cypress."

Mayfair nodded reluctantly, obviously following his logic. She said, "If they want Cypress in the palm of their hand I don't see much we can do to prevent them…"

"We must needs forestall them," Nick declared. "By marriage. Ours to start with."

Mayfair stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment, and then a blush crept through her cheeks. "I have no wish to wed, Prince Nick."

"That may be just as well. We both have a duty to Cypress. I have no heirs that I can name in the event of my death. I must have one, and Cypress must have a symbol. Together, we can provide both."

Mayfair repeated angrily, "_I said I have no wish to wed_! I am not a ward of the throne, Your Grace, and you have no right to dispose of my hand as it please you! I prefer to continue in my father's work." His style came off of her lips like an insult.

Genuinely taken aback, Nick's poise deserted him. "But surely," he sputtered. "I… that is we don't have to move right away. But this… a message to Iom and the Shining Force, our _duty_—"

"This isn't duty," she said very quietly. "This is what you wanted all along, isn't it, Nick?" She took a deep breath, "I've always been fond of you. But I have no wish to wed, and if I did, it would be for love. Surely there are other suitable offers for you anyway! The Arch Bishop's daughter is not a power in the land."

Nick sat absolutely still, stone masking his features. He said expressionlessly, "Leave me." Mayfair rose with dignity and swept from the tent.

Ruce reached a hand out and started with real warmth in his voice, "Nick…"

He didn't even move. "_Leave_ me."

Ruce, looking unhappy, left. Prince Nicholas sat there for a few more moments, and then he violently swept his arm to the side knocking maps, goblets, candles, and a few books crashing to the floor.

Rising in his wrath he turned next to his side table, upturning it, tearing at the sheets on his bed and finally he turned back to the center table and launched his foot into it, tilting it upward.

He unsheathed his sword holding it, about to impale the table, when abruptly he realized the pointless destruction he was inflicting. The blade dropped from his hands and he fell into a sitting position. The table crashed back into place.

His hands were trembling. How… how could she deny him like that? He would not allow others to thwart him, _he would not…!_ But who could he send for, who could he trust? Gyan? But Gyan was far away… Ruce? Dawn?

He saw numbly that he was clenching his fists tight, cutting deep into his hands. He released the grip and sat there in a disheveled heap. _Love,_ he thought frantically, _she spoke of love. Dammit, what is love? An illusion! What good does it do one? _

Sitting there, rocking back in forth in the wreckage of his tent, Nicholas II of Cypress realized that he was sobbing. "Cypress stands for justice," he sobbed in a cracked voice, repeating the words of a few days ago. "Like Father."


	37. Chapter 37: High Noon

Chapter 37:

High Noon

Eiku allowed himself a smile. Only one smile and only where there was no one to see it. Gods, it felt _good_ to be alive! There was, Eiku firmly believed, nothing quite so terrifying as a true smile, not the sort that anyone might use habitually, but a true smile resonating from the soul. There was nothing as terrifying as that. And he, Eiku, was smiling.

Things had worked out splendidly. Eiku silently thanked his would-be assassin, all the while wondering if the fool had any idea what kind of a favor he had done the Sub-Commander.

_Most like not_.

It had been excellent, however. When Mishalea discovered him, almost dead from whatever sort of poison that had been used, she had been naturally upset. On the other hand, the fact that Eiku had been incapacitated and dying to boot meant that he could have had nothing whatsoever to do with the escaped prisoners. When questioned about it, Tarbeck had blandly blamed the under-gaolers.

The smile faded from Eiku's lips at the sharp pain in his side. He was certainly on the mend, but his ribs were still hellishly sore. The one thing that most concerned him now was deciding who had sent the assassin; unfortunately his memories of the assassin's face were decidedly vague and unclear. He'd only gotten one good glimpse of it after all and it had seemed… furry? _Had _it seemed furry? He thought so, but the more he tried to be certain the harder it was to decide. Most likely a kyantol, he decided.

But who would send a kyantol to assassinate him, and why? Lynx wanted him dead certainly, but he'd probably try to arrange something a little more 'honorable.' Or mayhaps it was Cameela striking out, blood for blood? That seemed much more likely. But had he miscalculated in assuming that Slit was in danger? Or mayhaps it was as Cellion had suggested and Cameela, in fact, knew nothing.

_Stretched too thin_, he thought sourly. On the other hand, he was now quite strongly placed. He had appointed the very successful Supreme General Slit, Mishalea would not have forgotten that. In addition the plan he'd thought of to take care of Cameela was both brilliant and elegant. He was indeed well positioned for the coup de grace… But who had sent that dammed assassin after him?

He heard the door open, and he turned around to face his visitor, pushing his thoughts away for the moment. Magus slunk in looking somewhat the worse for wear. Certainly he was thinner.

The oafish-looking general muttered, "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes, Magus," said Eiku. "Here, come in, take a seat. Some wine perhaps?" He gestured to a flagon. Magus shuffled forward, looking sullen, and proceeded to pour himself the wine. He downed the cup instantly and poured another.

After a moment or so of silence, Magus grunted, "Well? What is it?"

Resisting the urge to make a snide crack about Alterone, Eiku replied, "Well you see… I've had disturbing reports recently."

"Disturbing reports," echoed Magus.

"Yes. Very, very disturbing reports."

"Disturbing reports," he said again.

Eiku's polite smile became a trifle fixed. He said briskly, "At the heart of all of this, my dear Magus, is treason."

"Treason," the general dutifully repeated. Then he suddenly stopped a vaguely crafty glint in his eyes and asked, "Lynx?"

"Well, yes," admitted Eiku.

"Aha, aha, aha! I thought so! I _thought _so!" chortled Magus.

_I wasn't aware that you could think. _

Magus wagged an admonishing finger at Eiku, "Oh yes, I have friends! The High Captain warned me of what you were up to." He hugged himself. "And now I've caught you in the act! You're dangerously close to treason, Eiku. Why, I might tell Mishalea myself…"

Ignoring the liberty that the witless cretin had taken by using his name, Eiku smiled contemptuously, "So that she will forget your failure at Alterone? I assure you, Lynx hasn't."

The lie (if it was a lie, even Eiku wasn't quite certain) was somewhat feeble and transparent. Nothing better was required for Magus however, so he wouldn't waste his time in elaborations.

For his part, Magus looked utterly stunned. "Have some more wine," snapped Eiku. "Alterone is just a small fish in a very big lake. Lynx has been gathering what he considers to be proofs; aye, reasons to put not only you, but me to the sword."

Magus's eyes bulged. "You're lying."

The uncertainty in his tone, however, spoke volumes. Eiku quickly stifled the impulse to smirk. He had already won. Instead he replied, "That of course is in addition to charges of treason, plot to conspiracy… oh yes. Very convincing documents indeed."

Magus lurched to his feet and then dropped to his knees, "Eiku… you've got to help me! Let me… let me help you. You won't find me ungrateful."

_It's not your gratitude that I'm interested in. _All the same, he must tread carefully here. Magus was an idiot to be sure, but if Eiku acquiesced too quickly even he might grasp the nature of the trap. "There's nothing we can do," he declared fatalistically, "aside from mayhaps making Paezorta an ally."

Magus screeched, "Lynx has overridden Paezorta before! You've got to help me! Eiku, you've got to help yourself!"

Trying hard not to let his contempt for Magus become obvious, Eiku pretended to hesitate. "Well… perhaps…"

"What?"

Abruptly the Sub-Commander's taste for this game left him. He sighed deeply, "If we strike first with proof of Lynx's treason, Lady Mishalea will have no choice but to condemn him. As it happens, I have a document…"

Magus leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, that's so. A legal means of defense."

Eiku handed over the paper which, essentially read to the effect that Lynx was guilty of treason. Unnamed treason to be sure. Eiku sighed again, "If we can take this before Lady Mishalea… oh, you'll have to sign right there, incidentally."

"By all means," replied Magus. He proceeded to scrawl a rather elaborate signature for a half-wit. Eiku risked a smirk. Magus looked up again, and held out his hand, "To our new alliance. And our legal means of defense."

At that Eiku was hard-pressed not to laugh. At best the document was of dubious legality, at worst it was treason. But there was no need for Magus to know that. Eiku smiled, "Drink your wine… Sub-Commander Magus!"

Magus chortled heartily as he downed the wine and bowed all the way out the door. At long last Eiku laughed, long and loud. In the end he had known that Magus would accept the lies; they benefited him after all. And the fool had always resented being the lowest in Mishalea's chain of command.

Fortunately he was also too stupid to realize how thoroughly he had just been played. All Eiku had really done was to assure himself of two things; one, when Lynx died there would be a scapegoat. And two, he had Magus himself.

After all, all Eiku needed to do to send Magus to the block was to produce the document. Ultimately, that document had Magus's signature on it and Eiku's word out-weighed Magus's. Once Lynx was dead… he would accuse Magus and Magus too, would die.

Eiku was a soldier at heart, but he knew that he deserved the appointment of High Commander for his years of feal service. With Lynx dead, he would be appointed and he would have a bone to throw to Cellion. He would also need to replace Magus, but he suspected Slit would suffice for that.

Although he wasn't really too concerned, he would have to be certain that Mishalea did not steal Slit from his control with this blockade. It would be good for Slit to remember to whom his gratitude was due, after all.

No, all things considered there were only two truly unsatisfactory factors to this new situation. The first one, obviously, being the mysterious assassination attempt. After all, who in the _hell_ would send a kyantol after him? The second was that he could not ascertain the best of ways to throw a bone to Tarbeck.

He had already quietly suggested to the Chief Gaoler that he might arrange a promotion, but Tarbeck had very amiably rebuffed the offer.

_He doesn't want more power, he doesn't want gold… he doesn't even seem to have a lust in him! What the hell does he want_?

Ah well. Regardless of Tarbeck he had a hated rival to assassinate, a blundering fool to blame, enemies to keep an eye on, and a war to win. Slowly Eiku poured himself a drink, and as he did so, he felt his good humor returning.

He smiled at the stream of gently glugging, golden liquid. _Do you see that Lynx? _He thought exultantly, _that's your life trickling away…_

---

"Gepple," slurred the King of the Devils. "Good. I have…" he paused, seemingly thinking. "A task for you."

"I live but to serve, my lord-"

Geshp leaned forward and sneered, "I believe that it is customary to grant a king the style, _Your Grace_."

"Your Grace," the traitor quickly amended.

Zeon glowered at him, but remained silent. Gepple was about to speak again, wondering what on earth Zeon wanted when this king abruptly bellowed, "I want that wizard's head!"

Gepple frowned wondering if perhaps this was a trap. A wizard? He asked cautiously, "What wizard, Your Grace?"

Zeon muttered distractedly, "Oh you know. That one… what's his name? Bazzer?"

"Bazoo," the spy corrected, his heart sinking in his chest. He hesitated and then asked, "Might I know why he needs to die?"

Zeon glared at him and bellowed, "Because it is the will of your king!"

Gepple bobbed a stiff little bow muttering, "Of course, Your Grace." He quickly slipped from the room.

_Dammit… should've seen this coming. _

The order, Gepple was certain, was a loyalty test. Probably Geshp's idea too. It had his touch all over it. This way, if he killed Bazoo, Zeon would have satisfactorily confirmed that he had a genuine mole. If Bazoo lived on in his unnatural death then Gepple knew that his own continued existence would be worth very little. And of course, killing Bazoo would have the dangerous ramifications of crossing Lady Mishalea.

A chuckle burst from his lips. Oh yes, it was clever enough. All the same, Gepple should have expected that sooner or later someone would try something very like this. And now it had happened.

Actually, come to think on it, it had happened before. In the Cypress Civil War, he had been killed by a royal guard named Randolph, he seemed to recall. And for much the same reason he was in such a dangerous position now; he had overlooked pertinent details.

The only question now wasn't whether or not to toss the dice, but what game to play. If he killed Bazoo and the murder was never traced back to him, well then, all very well and good. If Mishalea did find out, however, she would end his life with fire or ointment… or with that crystal of hers.

On the other hand, if he didn't obey Zeon's orders he was also quite finished. Unless he tossed the dice and told Mishalea everything. But would she have the power to kill Zeon? And even if she did, would she bestir herself to do so at Gepple's behest? The spy wasn't naïve, a good portion of his usefulness to her came from what he was able to glean about Zeon's forces. If he threw that away…

And he most certainly couldn't crawl back to Warderer. Gepple had betrayed that king too thoroughly to be welcomed by him again; some wounds never healed after all, but rankled at the slightest provocation and Gepple had sold some of Warderer's secrets to the enemy that the mad king hated with a passion.

Slowly Gepple's hands raised the green helmet that he had worn in life, when his service had been to Woldol.

"I swore never to wear this accursed thing again," he breathed. But that was foolish. There was only one way to victory. Only one way he could be sure of. He'd have to be sure to kill that dammed wizard fast though.

And, after all, he surely would have slain Bazoo eventually. The wizard knew too much and did too little; of Death Woldol's cabal the wizard was the only true rival Gepple had. Things had just… accelerated a little.

---

"Well?" asked Cellion as he prodded his sword gingerly into the ground. This pursuit had fast become a headache. Cellion hadn't truly expected to catch his quarry, no, that would have been simply _too_ much good luck. Worth a try though.

The scout saluted wearily. "No signs of a battle or of a body that I can find sir. But there's no doubt, the centaur's no longer with them. The trail's clear enough though. Shall I give the order to continue?"

Cellion squinted at the sun, considering carefully. He'd tracked the old man, his young charge, and the wounded centaur relentlessly, but it would appear that they'd stayed just far enough ahead of his group to get away.

Ordinarily Cellion wouldn't be too bothered, but all the scouts definitely confirmed that there was no sign of the centaur in the main group anymore. And no other trails either. When Cellion had reached this knoll which looked rather blood-stained he had thought that perhaps the old man had abandoned the centaur, or mayhaps there had been a battle.

But there was no sign of the centaur here, either. "No," he decided finally. "We'll head on back to the Skull Castle."

"Pardon me for saying so, sir, but won't that be in violation of direct orders?"

"Any anger there may be at this loss will be on my head, soldier. I'm not pressing on into territory where the Shining Force may or may not be established. With these odds we'd probably all end up dead. We've pursued as we were sent to do, and now I'm exercising my best judgment. We'll retreat for the nonce."

---

Cameela sighed, "It was sheer idiocy!"

Slit smirked at her, "You're just envious of my brilliant victory."

Cameela shot straight back, "It was a stupid move and you think that you can justify it by having gotten away with it?"

"It vas a masterful stroke!" shrieked the lizardman as he cracked his tail for dramatic effect.

Cameela was unimpressed. She'd handled blustering, vainglorious men like Slit before, so his tactics were nothing new to her. No, what disturbed her was that she sensed that Slit wasn't merely drunk on glory- he was quite mad. And that was coupled to a hefty dose of arrogance…

Though she was feeling a little uncertain, she gazed into his madly burning eyes with as perfect a confidence as she could render. "Yes, you won that one. What about the next one? There's no point to this conglomeration if we don't work together."

She left the rest unsaid; namely that it had been not working together that had allowed the Shining Force to expand its control so rapidly with very little in the way of real defeat.

The smirk returned to Slit's face. "It vas my lady, se great Mishalea who called all of our powers togeser. Just as she has se most voice in all councils, more san Varderer or Zeon, her representative is meant to make all of se decisions, out here. It is your task to offer loyal advice and soldiers should I require it… If you vant a voice in my council sen you should be in my camp, amongst my forces, at my side…"

Cameela shuddered with distaste as she heard the unspoken, 'In my bed…' She snapped, "That defeats the purpose of being here! We're not Mishalea's bloody council, all decisions are supposed to be reached with four voices!"

She had called this summit meeting hoping to resolve the future with Slit to her satisfaction. Unfortunately, he had proven to be much odder than she had thought and Bazoo hadn't bothered to show up at all. And that lordling of Iom, Solo, might as well not have come for all he was doing, lounging idly and offering the occasional comment.

At the moment the lordling was resting one leg across the other and bouncing his knee a little. Abruptly he yawned, "I see nothing wrong with the way Supreme General Slit has conducted himself. The armies of Iom and Darksol are of one mind on this issue."

Cameela's eyebrows jerked upwards, but she forbore commenting. Solo's position was doubtless meant to provoke her. Well, Cameela was not so foolish as that. Not by half.

Slit interrupted her thoughts by saying loudly, "You neglected to consider a mutual friend of ours. If ve all have equal voice, sen surely, my friend Gwaid also has a say in strategy."

Cameela replied coolly, "Gwaid represents no one and his task is little more than pillaging. Not precisely successful at that, either. Wasn't his original purpose to lure Max out?"

Slit's lips twitched into a lazy half-smile. "You vould be vise to reconsider a number of your strategies, General. You vould dare make demands of me, se only varrior here to have defeated se Shining Force? Sings vill continue as sey are… or you vill accompany me back to my camp if you vish to have more veight in my decisions!"

Cameela stared back at him, very hard. Aside from Slit, things were going very well for Zeon's forces, barring the death of Zalbard of course. And, after all, why should she persist in trying to keep Slit from destroying himself?

_Because you were sent here to kill Max, not Slit._

Even aside from that, she had also received word from Odd-Eye. Well, two words entirely. Apparently he was coming much closer to proofs of Geshp's treacheries. All things told, it was high noon for Zeon's forces, high noon and midsummer.

_So why am I so bloody cold?_

Barely hearing herself over her thoughts she warned Slit one last time, "I'm telling you, Slit. Don't start any trouble that you can't finish. I've got an eye on you."

The Supreme General smirked at her for a long moment, a crafty glint in his eye. "Vhen I start trouble, General, you vill be se first to know."

---

"_Heh_, but I do believe that we've lost them," Kokichi declared. He wiped his brow, breathing heavily. It had been rough going there for a while after leaving Van… but he wouldn't think of Vankar. It had been rough going for a while there, but he no longer discerned any obvious signs of pursuit. That suited him very well, naturally.

Scanning the ground with an experienced eye the old man finally rendered judgment, grudging every word of it. "This spot won't do for us. We'll have to press on for a bit yet."

Krin didn't give any hint that she'd heard him, aside from not doing anything to prepare for a make-shift camp. The stone-faced child was not much a one for talking. Then again, Kokichi supposed, after his… expedition he'd lost some of his own talkativeness.

He squinted ahead and grunted, "Looks like a forest up ahead. Good cover there. We'll make for a defensible spot." Krin, as usual, said nothing.

_Heh, even Earnest talked more than she does. _

But he didn't want to think about Earnest either. After a few more minutes they were passing beneath a dark canopy of trees. "We're definitely in a for…" His voice trailed off as he caught sign of a flickering light several yards ahead. Fire.

The old man hesitated now. What to do? He couldn't go back, that would be asking to be captured, nor did he really have the time to go around the forest. The two of them had been going hard at it too, so flying was out. Kokichi needed a rest. Bandits or no, he would have to brave the fire… and whoever had made it. Risky, but it was his truest option.

At least he wouldn't have to warn the child off of talking. Smiling grimly he continued forward. In short order they came upon what looked to be a carefully built fire which was blazing quite forcefully. A solitary figure sat, with his, or her, come to think on it, back to the old man.

Kokichi started to clear his throat when the figure rose and spun about with alarming speed. Kokichi found himself gazing upon a very richly dressed, well armored in fact, and well-built looking man with a ravaged face, long, grey-streaked, dignified hair and burning green eyes. The man had been wearing a cloak over his armor and…

"_Heh_," managed Kokichi. He didn't know who he'd found, but he could sense this one's presence. He had an uncomfortable notion that he had found a sorcerer, and one up to no good.

A smile, more mocking than friendly, found its way past this man's thin lips. "Ah," he sighed. "A traveler." The voice was surprisingly deep and tinged with sardonic amusement. Abruptly the man gestured to the fire, "It's been a long time since I've had company. Sit."

As Kokichi moved forward cautiously, the man caught sight of Krin, but there was no sign of recognition in his face. "Who, pray, is the child?"

An educated man then? But then, a sorcerer probably would be. "She's my granddaughter," Kokichi answered immediately.

The man continued smiling as he observed the two of them. Kokichi returned the favor. This man, though he looked very well-off, was not so healthy as that. He was more than thin, rather he was emaciated, although he didn't look terribly weak. His face was lined and he looked rather exhausted.

The man had an unfathomable expression on his face. Then he began again, "Forgive me for not examining the niceties beforehand, but it never hurts to be careful. What brings you two onto the road?"

"War, _heh_," replied Kokichi. "What else?" Quickly improvising he spat into the fire, "There's for the Shining Force," he spat twice more, "and there's for the Darkness and there's for the rest, _heh_!" He wondered if the lie had been enough. There was a still a disturbing, slightly condescending expression on the man's lips.

The man stared at him for a moment and then tossed his head back and laughed. It took him a minute or so to regain his composure and the laughter was uncannily mocking and deprecating rather than jovial. Kokichi had spent years entertaining people and he sensed that there was something wrong here.

He decided to take a cautious offensive, "What name do you go by, friend?"

The man seemed somewhat off-guard at that. "Me? Why yes…" his voice dropped, "Hmm, why not, yes indeed." Raising it again he said, "You may as well call me Nicholas."

"Nicholas?" Kokichi raised a brow at that. He wondered, he rather wondered.

Nicholas nodded and said, "I'm afraid I don't have much to offer, but enjoy the fire."

The evening dragged on, the two men, occasionally asking questions as they fenced around and around, each one seemingly determined to give away as little as possible.

Finally Kokichi allowed himself to drift into an uneasy sleep. He woke some time later, his bladder full to bursting and he stumbled to his feet. Standing a few yards away was Nicholas, his face raised to the sky. Kokichi froze.

The man was talking to himself. "Two pieces just like that…" The man's voice was strong, but fractured in some way and bitter, horribly bitter and self-deprecating. "Two pieces like that, as I once was a piece, like that. But then, we were all of us always too scornful of the possibility that a pawn might cross the board and crown itself." He was silent for a while and then he chuckled lightly. And though his back was to Kokichi, somehow the old man could just see the dangerous gleam in the Nicholas's smile. "And sometimes, allies become enemies."

Kokichi decided that he could wait a while yet and silently crept back down into a sleeping position. Mayhaps Nicholas would sleep soon.

---

"Tell me, Dawn, what you would do with this command were it in your hands?" Deanna asked, as he easily kept up with her long centaur stride.

She raised a querying eyebrow. Would there ever come a time when he would stop surprising her? "I should do as my king commanded me," she replied, truthfully, but indeterminately.

"Ah, yes. You're much a one for the law, aren't you Dawn." It wasn't a question. "I wonder what you would do if forced to exercise initiative, though."

Rather than allowing him a moment of silence Dawn replied, "I would act as best fit the law, my conscience, and honor."

"And if any of those is brought into conflict, with the others? Is it better to be just or to be compassionate?"

"Why," she sniped back. "Have they come into conflict for _you_?"

A tired smile played across his lips. "You don't like me very much, do you? Nor does Eric."

"My feelings are immaterial to this discussion. You've done everything you've needed to well enough. Aye, and within the reach of the law. You have not been reassigned by your superiors. My feelings, are irrelevant."

"That's very dutiful of you."

Dawn ignored that. Deanna was right of course, she didn't like him, but he had done all a lord and captain should and she, therefore, owed him loyal service. Grudgingly she asked, "What would you have of me, then? Counsel?"

"Mayhaps. I was curious to know your mind, though."

She hesitated and then said, "Very well, I shall be frank. There is one thing I would like to know of you. Your… your intentions regarding Natasha."

"I'm fond of Natasha," Deanna replied simply. "I would not bring her, nor you, nor Eric, nor anyone into conflict with m… with me." Dawn glanced at him sharply. She thought he had been about to say, 'my.'

"Yet," Deanna continued, "All give me the same counsel. To break with the precepts of my conscience. Sheer rationality dictates this as well. I would not fail myself but..." He stopped for a long moment. Finally he muttered, "There are debts yet to be paid. Conflicting loyalties to be sorted." He looked straight at her and asked genially, "Would you please convey my regards to King Nicholas? It would seem that my hand has been dealt for me."

---

Bangar was drowsing when she came in. Gasping in disbelief he struggled into a sitting position. "K-Kari," he managed.

"Oh spare me," she muttered.

"But, but thissss isss wonderful! I had thought you would be gone… longer."

"So had I," she admitted. "Familiarize me with all new developments."

Words poured from the reptile as swiftly as he could muster them. There was only one thing to hesitate over. Should he tell her where Gwaid had gone? Mayhaps so. He could claim that he had maneuvered it, in the hopes that the Shining Force would deal with that dagger in the back.

Kari seemed surprised, "Truly? And you control Mishalea's waters?"

"Ah… yesss."

Her face was puckered with thought. Finally she said, "Very well. Say nothing of my arrival to Gwaid. I have a new task for you. The Shining Force will strike eventually. And when they do…" she smiled sweetly, "Kill them."


	38. Chapter 38: Existence is Murder

Chapter 38:

Existence is Murder

"Milady," Paezorta announced in a broad tone, allowing only the slightest hint of a smile to touch his features, "I believe that we have finally made some progress."

Mishalea slowly lifted her gaze. Though he would never say so, her appearance shocked Paezorta. The Lady of Darkness looked exhausted, and care-worn. Her lustrous hair was a long mane, beautiful, but unkempt. Those brilliant eyes that had so often shone with clarity were dull.

"Is it… have you had news of Warderer?"

Paezorta shook his head, wondering, and hating the thought, if Lynx's prolonged absence was at the root of this. "No, something better." He paused, feeling triumphant for a moment and then informed her in that same broad tone, "Ridion the dwarf has contacted me."

She blinked, rather heavily, and murmured, "Ridion?"

Choosing, for the moment, to ignore her demeanor, Paezorta affirmed, "Aye. He has, apparently, found one or two of the Shining Force who are of a similar mind and has asked me to arrange negotiations. I presume you'll want to bring them to Skull Castle?"

"Skull Castle?" She paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "Oh yes. Of course."

"Shall I order an escort, milady?"

"No. No, I'll do it. I may have to see to… other things."

Paezorta frowned curiously, and then he looked at her, really looked at her. Mishalea looked positively unwell. Mayhaps it was the countless burdens that she had to shoulder, finally weighing down a bit.

_Or mayhaps it's love._

He instinctively flinched away from that thought, but even as he tried to turn away, he couldn't stop himself from surreptitiously watching her. Her exhausted face, and her eyes… weary with lassitude though they were, they were still brilliant. Her long, tangled hair, her slim, curvaceous form…

Squeezing his eyes shut, the dark elf knew that he couldn't deny the truth any further. To his everlasting shame, he wanted her. He had always wanted her.

_Pazort… _

The old pain clenched more tightly than ever. Paezorta had spent much of his life following his brother, doing everything that had ever been asked of him. He would have gone to his brother's aid at Odegan but…

_All I ever wanted was your approval. Some sign, a word of respect, something! I just… I just wanted you to love me. _

But that was so fruitless… Pazort had never been overly fond of his young brother, even less so after what that bastard, Galm had done. And now Paezorta craved Mishalea, the only one who had ever shown him compassion. The woman who had made him everything that he was. And it shamed him terribly.

_Dammit, I don't want to be at the constant mercy of this emotionalism. I don't want… I want… I want… I _want…

Mishalea abruptly asked, "Well? Is there something else?" She sounded slightly angry. Paezorta desperately tried to think out of the haze surrounding him. Was it Eiku? He should report the Sub-Commander but… he couldn't do that. His colleague merely bore watching. Paezorta understood, all too well, what it was to have ancient grievances that bled at the slightest provocation, a madness struggling to take over your soul. He couldn't report Eiku.

"Ah, no. Nothing."

"Very well. Leave me."

Paezorta bowed low and turned, managing only one more glimpse of Mishalea. He hated the weakness in himself, but it was all that he had left.

---

What was bothering her, Mishalea couldn't quite say. She knew it was something to do with that face, the one that had been disturbing her rest of late. A face that was, come to think on it, rather similar to Lord Darksol's, but infinitely more terrifying. Mishalea hated that face. And why was it haunting her sleep?

Aside from that, though, she privately admitted to herself, that she might, perhaps have taken on a bit too much. Lynx hadn't sent word of how the invasion was progressing and that was not a good sign. He might be too bogged down in an intense campaign to contact her… or he might be dead. But, if she was honest with herself, what was really chaffing her was Zeon.

She desperately needed the self-styled King of the Devils dead. She would have killed him soon in any case, but Zeon was becoming more neurotic and unpredictable by the hour and he was actively maneuvering against her interests. Mishalea couldn't afford that.

Unfortunately, the risk was tremendous. Either way. She'd come up with what she considered a sufficient means of killing Zeon… but such had never been attempted before. Pacing moodily about, she reflected on all that she had ever known of the Jewel of Evil.

From what she recalled, Zeon, when he had first risen to power, had been an enigma. Mishalea had never had the leisure to truly understand where Zeon and his minions of the era, Geshp, Zalbard, and Cameela, had come from as Lord Darksol had been incapacitated shortly thereafter and was, therefore, unable to answer any questions she might have had. But she recalled readily enough that Zeon had emerged from somewhere and set about challenging the supremacy of Darksol. Until then, such a thing had been quite unheard of. It was true, her lord kept an eye on the Vandals, even then, and she had heard him speak scathingly the name Lux a handful of times and later, twice, the name Lucifer, but never had any of these powers (whoever Lux and Lucifer were) ever challenged her lord, to her understanding.

Darksol had immediately taken himself off to someplace or other and created this Jewel of Evil, and he had then dueled Zeon extensively. The battle turned out to be a stalemate, for just when it seemed that Zeon was gaining the upper hand; Darksol had revealed the Jewel of Evil and absorbed nearly all of Zeon's power. Even as Zeon fell to the earth, however, he tossed his magical sword up through Lord Darksol's chest thus binding him as well.

Mishalea had acted accordingly and promptly cast spells of protection for her lord and had hidden him away, waiting to revive him. Geshp and his colleagues had done the same for Zeon, but with a difference. Zeon's powers were reduced, but he was not bound by anything other than prudence. Over the eons, Zeon's power had slowly gathered back to him, and it was enormous. Fortunately, he could only regain so much of his power without the Jewel of Evil. With the artifact he could certainly force Mishalea to bend the knee. So she, also, naturally had searched for it almost as ardently as Zeon had.

But now… What she contemplated doing was unprecedented, insanely risky. But what choice did she truly have? Furthermore, she needed to be certain of Geshp. She couldn't risk the possibility that he would betray her to Zeon and the only true way to forestall that possibility was to kill Zeon himself. But it was dammed inconvenient timing.

"Curse Zeon," she muttered fiercely. "Curse Warderer too. Curse them all for their damnable short-sightedness. I brought them together to face a common threat, but no, they continue their idiotic plotting and treason!" There was a bitter taste in Mishalea's mouth. It took her a moment to realize what it was.

She was the victim of ingratitude. Here she had been, giving her enemies a chance to at least try and preserve their chances for personal vengeance, and what did the idiots do? They squandered it! Now she would most like have to deal with both Warderer and Zeon. Especially seeing that Warderer had dropped out of sight, when he, like Lynx, should at least have word sent by now.

At that moment Mishalea felt a subtle vibration of power. She turned and recognized the shadow of Rilix; the Vandal was projecting her image over distance. "What is it?"

"Gepple will be-"

"I don't have time for that." Mishalea's tone was imperious. Here, too, was another headache. Rilix had been a natural choice for an ally, especially after Galm's interference. She needed a powerful Vandal to aid her and Rilix hated Galm. It should have gone well. But, Mishalea had started to wonder… Rilix's power was immense and she saw most things in the crystal installed in her sedan chair. How much did she see that Mishalea was left unaware of?

"You might wish to listen long enough to consider th-"

"Insignificant," Mishalea fired back. "Whatever treasons Gepple is contemplating have to wait for a few days at least. He is a very small fish in a very big lake."

Rilix was silent for a time, and then she smirked. "As you say, Lady of Darkness."

"Wait." Mishalea sighed. That outburst had been most uncharacteristic. She needed to find _focus_ again. She could feel everything, bit by bit, slipping past her control. What had happened to her that her nerves were this shaken? A dry chuckle burst past her lips.

_I'm only contemplating a murder that no one knows if it's even physically possible. _

"We need to talk," the dark elf admitted frankly. "I can't see to anything you might have for me at the moment. Say another few days? Three, perhaps?"

"Of course. Here?"

"No. I'll be gone." Mishalea considered for a moment. "Could you make it to the old village?" She didn't bother specifying which village she meant; anyone who had spent any amount of time at Skull Castle would have known what she was speaking of.

"Ah." Rilix sounded slightly uncertain. Mishalea took great satisfaction in ruffling that smug complacency of hers. "Very well." The Vandal's tone remained dubious.

"Splendid. We'll talk then." There was a momentary, heavy silence before the shadow flickered and disappeared. Her previous mood of gloom quickly reestablished itself. "Bitch," muttered Mishalea. Rilix should be more respectful. If she was off-balance at the moment, all the better. A little discomfort wouldn't do her any lasting damage.

Mishalea sighed pensively. What _was_ it that was bothering her? Zeon? Not really, no. Warderer? No. Why did she feel so nervous?

_Damn you, Max_.

The thought was uncharacteristically bitter. Max should be a nonentity to her, merely another opponent to be outmaneuvered. But Mishalea was honest enough with herself to admit that it was deeper with Max. Why? Why did he make her so furious? Why did he make her feel like she needed to justify herself? Anger slowly gathered itself in her soul, but this wasn't cold anger such as she was used to, but hot rage, so much sweeter than the pain.

At that moment she heard the treading sound of foot-steps and she spun about, her eyes flashing. There was a mage standing in the door, his mouth working silently.

"What do you want?"

"M-mi-milady! I, ah… a-a-anno-announcing H-h-igh C-c-c-co-commander L-lynx." He ducked out of the doorway swiftly. Mere moments later, her High Commander entered the room.

Mishalea could only stare. Lynx looked as though he had aged eons over the course of the last two weeks. He had always been a handsome man, but she would have hardly guessed that, judging by his current appearance. What hit her hardest though, was his slumped posture as though he had been personally and profoundly defeated. Or denied.

A strained silence lasted until finally he broke it, the hint of a whine in his voice. "Mishalea…"

A little startled, she snapped, "And what are you doing here? You can hardly have subjugated all of Rune in such a short time."

He shook his head violently, looking at her with a dreadful sort of hope. "They were… waiting. At Pao… and w- I…" His voice trailed off as he looked at her with eagerness.

Mishalea flinched. Her voice was deathly quiet, as she tried to keep the rage from spilling out. "You're telling me that you were defeated by carelessness or-" She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "You worthless… you… you…"

_Never trust a man. They're not worth it. _

Lynx fell awkwardly to his knees, his voice choked. "No I…" he shook his head vigorously. "Mishalea you have to forgive me. I can't… I need… you have to forgive me!"

His self-serving begging only served to infuriate her further. She turned, seizing one of her crystal goblets, still with a few mouthfuls of wine in it. Turning back she flung it at him. Lynx didn't move, but remained there, kneeling as the wine splattered all over him and the crystal shattered.

"Get out," she shrieked. "Get out!"

Lynx stumbled to his feet, his face distorted with emotion. Slowly he walked off, shame fairly radiating from him. Mishalea sighed deeply. What was happening to her? She needed to focus again. Why couldn't she control herself anymore? Why did she care, now, of all times? And what did she care about?

_This is all your fault Max, you black-hearted bastard. You've done this to me. _

"Kisaragi," she barked. A mere moment later the woman had appeared from thin air, sidling up towards her.

The spy's mouth quirked. "You called, milady?"

Mishalea ignored that. She'd learned by now that conversations with her cagey companion went faster if one ignored her bait. "Get me Paezorta. While I'm gone, make sure that Geshp doesn't get up to anything. Oh, and you might as well convey my regards to this mistress of yours."

Kisaragi's eyebrow rose fractionally. "Of course. I am to take it then that you're interested in… further familiarities?"

"Yes. You may as well find out what her terms will be." Mishalea didn't actually like this, working to a schedule she hadn't seen for the sake of a person whose abilities she didn't know, but the dark elf saw no choice. She was about to betray her most powerful, so-called ally and jumping boats could be dangerous. She needed an extra hand and Kisaragi's abilities proved that she was serving someone worthy of an alliance. Nonetheless it made Mishalea uneasy.

She turned away from Kisaragi. As soon as she saw Paezorta and gave him his orders, she would have to be off. Before anything else, she'd need to get an eye in on Warderer.

---

Nicholas was finding this meeting difficult for more reason than one, but he'd trained his whole life for all the burdens that went with being a king. His poise only rarely deserted him. "Would you like a seat, Lord Deanna?" That was an old trick that he'd learned. A man who could dominate a room while sitting down appeared even more in control than a man who had to stand. And Nicholas had mastered that technique years ago.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Deanna briskly crossed his legs and began with aplomb, "Your Grace, I'm well aware that we haven't exactly been friends, but it seems to me that our… interests are not actually much removed from each other."

"Indeed?" Though Nick would never admit it, he was grateful that Deanna had asked for this audience. This was business as usual, and Nick could attend to that. Mayfair's rebuff had taken him by surprise, but that was all. He'd have to invest a good deal of effort in understanding why precisely he hadn't been prepared for that outcome. In the meantime though, there was no reason to be too concerned in that quarter. She would almost certainly come around; Mayfair was, after all, nothing if not dutiful. And she had said that she was fond of him. He could well use that to his advantage. Of course, none of that was to do with Deanna. "May I ask you one small question, Lord Deanna?" He courteously waited for assent, which was not long in coming. "Why have you come to me now, then? After all your resistance, why come to me now?"

Deanna was silent for a minute, and then he shrugged. "We've all done things that we're not proud of, Your Grace." He paused for a moment, but as he continued, his voice shook, very faintly. "Mayhaps I've lived too long on my knees… but I've come to you, Your Grace, on my knees nonetheless. It's occurred to me that I haven't," his mouth quirked, "been a very good subject to the throne and I…"

At that moment there was a ruffling and Lowe's head popped in through the tent opening. "Ah, Prince Nicholas. Lord Max would like a word with you."

"I see." He rose and bowed gracefully to Deanna. "I pray that you will pardon me, my lord. I seem to be wanted."

"Of course, Your Grace."

Nicholas strode alongside the grey-haired healer briskly, not precisely anticipating his meeting with Lord Max, but feeling well-prepared for such an encounter. Just as he stepped up to the tent, Lowe paused and asked, "May I speak to you, frankly, for a moment?"

"Yes?"

Lowe's gaze was direct. "You should give up trying to turn people against Lord Max. It's not just that it won't work, you'll vilify yourself."

"What?" His composure collapsed into absolute confusion. "What are you…?"

"Why else is your man, Ruce, spending so much time trying to be friendly with various people he never seemed interested in before? Like myself."

Nick paused, abruptly. He had almost forgotten the orders he had given to Ruce, before realizing that he had nothing to reproach himself for. All the same, despite the obvious justice of Lowe's complaint, Nick felt chagrined. Did this man see Nick as little more than a transparent schemer, working for his own self-interest with little regard to scruple? Was that why Mayfair had refused him?

_Nonsense. She knows I am just in most… in all things. _

He replied coolly, "I presume that Ruce merely finds himself desiring good company. If you will excuse me?"

Lowe shrugged artlessly. "Suit yourself. I just thought it bore mentioning."

Nick ignored that and presently his long stride brought him into the tent of the leader of the Shining Force. Max turned to face him as he entered, and Nick noted that his appearance was much changed. Max's face had lost some of the grim defensiveness which had characterized it, lately. He had always possessed a magnetic presence, but now, his gaze was sharp, powerful, and focused, in a way that it had not been for a long time.

Max's greeting was curt. "Sit."

Nicholas did so. "You asked for me, my lord?"

Max turned his head aside, whether from shame or disgust, Nick would never know. "There's no need to go into all that now. Dammit, Nicholas, I know that I haven't… well I haven't been exactly fair with you. In fact, in most ways, I've treated you somewhat poorly." There was a long pause. "I'm sorry." There was an even longer silence.

Finally Nick cleared his throat. "Misunderstandings sometimes happen." It wasn't much of a comment. But Nicholas's brain was coldly calculating the scenario, a gift that he'd learned from his father… and his uncle. Nicholas didn't like Max and Max had always had all the power in every encounter they'd had. Now, however, he might be able to change that.

Lord Max was clearly in a curious mood, and that gave Nick a chance. He was already bending backward, if Nick merely remained firm then Max would, in all probability, go down on his knees and once he did that, Nick would have the power here.

Max did not disappoint him. "Well I felt that… what I'm trying to say is that we should be friends. There's no good pretending that I haven't mis-stepped here, and I'm not very good at apologies."

Nicholas remained silent, fixing him with a penetrating gaze. Within moments, Max regained his composure. "Well, anyway, there is a practical reason for your presence here. You see, we're going to take action against this barricade very soon. I've devised a strategy and the council will hammer it out between them, but in the end, they'll agree with me… especially if I have your support."

_Ah._

Now Nicholas recognized the game they were playing. This was something he knew very well indeed. Such exchanges could be weighed, measured, and, to an extent, trusted. "And what makes you confident that I will support your proposal?"

"Because it means the end of your enemy, Solo."

"Solo?" After his moment of surprise faded, an edge crept into Nicholas's voice. "When he was most vulnerable, I called out for that attack. And you rejected it. Why have you suddenly gained interest in renewing that operation?"

"It's a question of surviving this blockade. No matter what we throw at Slit or Cameela, we can't break through them that way. If we could fall on them from the north however…"

Nicholas frowned. "You're setting us an impossible goal. We'd never get close to Solo before clashing with the barricade anyway. And even if we did get through, Solo will be a difficult opponent. He's a wary man, and his fortifications will be much closer to completion."

"I know. Your knowledge of his character may be useful though. And I do have an idea, how to circumvent the barricade." He turned to the sideboard and, with exaggerated carelessness, poured two glasses of wine. "I would prefer to keep that much of the plan to myself, for the moment, however. You don't need to know it. Drink?"

For a long moment Nicholas hesitated. Finally he replied, "I'm not certain that I wish to oblige. Guardiana has shown that it doesn't suffer any particular pangs of conscience for reneging on an agreement."

Max took a long sip of wine, clearly playing for time. His voice was very mild which, in and of itself, was a dangerous sign. "What are you talking about?"

"Guardiana," returned Nick "has a longstanding history of basic goodwill with Alterone. That has not prevented the Lord Regent from taking steps to absorb it, however."

Max's face went absolutely still. "I think you've received an exaggerated report of what's happening there. Lord Ward has acted as he thinks best, I'm sure. And if Queen Anri finds that there is any truth to your claims, I can assure you that the punishment will be severe."

Nick considered for a moment. He had read Max correctly; even when his first instinct was to passionately defend Guardiana, he simply needed Nick and his support too much to risk alienation. Even when it comes to matters of domestic policy, Max was willing to offer Nick subtle concessions. Finally the golden-haired prince reached a hand out and picked up the glass that Max had set down. "I'll think about it."

Max rubbed his jaw, looking dissatisfied. "Very well. The meeting's to be tomorrow."

Nick nodded and politely finished the wine. He turned and left briskly. Once out of the tent, he took a deep breath, studying his hands. They were shaking a little. He felt… well, a little pensive. It startled him. There was no need to feel anything. His relationship with Lord Max was a dutiful one and a king's friends were people who could be useful to him.

He had merely recognized an advantage and used it. All the same… he felt as though there was something in that tent he had missed, something vital that he should have come away with. Nick abruptly shook his head.

His nerves were still obviously a little strained these days. There was nothing in that tent that he hadn't been aware of. Only an advantage that he'd utilized.

---

"_Heh_, that's most kind of you, but really, I-"

"Not in the least, my dear Sergei. I absolutely must insist. It's been so long since I've had such pleasant company."

Kokichi paused, desperately trying to think of a good excuse as to why Nicholas could not come with them. "We're going in different directions," he bluffed.

Nicholas burst into that deprecating laugh of his. "Oh no, you misunderstand, my friend. I was merely a day or so ahead of you until you caught me up. We are going the same way, very much so."

"Very well, _heh_," coughed Kokichi. If Nicholas was determined to follow them, there wasn't really much Kokichi could do aside from resigning himself to it. He supposed that he could just kill him, but the old man was a little touchy about casual murder, and despite all his suspicion, Nicholas hadn't actually given him any cause for distrust. Now Earnest might have… but he didn't know anyone named Earnest.

"Delightful," Nicholas was saying. The old man abruptly realized that he hadn't been listening. "At least I've always found it so. What about you, Sergei?"

'Sergei' had been his own invention and he was fairly proud of it. He'd also dubbed Krin as Cat. "Oh, er, _heh_ I can't really say I ever much noticed it, _heh_."

Nicholas waved a magnanimous hand. "And why should you have given it a thought? I do say, though, it has occurred to me that your charming little granddaughter here doesn't say very much."

"Oh, _heh_, well she's a bit of a strange child really. Never talked much, but she does know how, _heh._ I think it was the death of her parents that caused it."

"Oh." Nicholas theatrically smacked his forehead. "How thoughtless of me." Kokichi's head was starting to ache. He hoped that his unasked for traveling companion wouldn't remain quite so flamboyant.

He turned a shrewd gaze to Nicholas. There wasn't much of a contrast in his appearance in daylight, but Kokichi could note much more detail. Nicholas simply looked too… regal to have honest business on the road. He wore a long red cloak and intricate armor with gold overlay and sculptured work. At his belt was cruel looking knife. But what really unsettled the old man were those burning green eyes.

Nicholas also exuded a raw sense of power. There was a faintly mocking smile on his lips as he studied Kokichi in return, but, thankfully, he didn't say anything else. So they traveled on for a while, maintaining an uneasy silence.

As the trees started to thin, Kokichi made up his mind. "Why don't we make a brief stop here, _heh_?"

Nicholas offered him a tight smile. "By all means Sergei. Here, I'll share my rations with you."

As the other man turned his back, Kokichi guided Krin a short distance a way, muttering, "We'll just get this old flying machine lubricated and take off. I don't like that one." Krin nodded obediently, and turned to help operate the strings.

Years of practice made the old man's hands deft now, and he was grateful for that. He stood up, about to give the order, when an ear-piercing shriek rent the air. For half a moment, Kokichi was undecided, but only for half a moment. Nicholas had been his companion whatever else he may have been, and though Kokichi might have tried to run from him, he wouldn't just leave him.

The old man dashed back to the little grove where they had stopped, and then pulled up short. Nicholas was wrestling with some flickering, blue-ish… specter? It looked a little bit like a Mist Demon, but this thing was infinitely more terrifying. Nicholas was dancing around howling gibberish and, Kokichi realized almost absently, casting spells. None of this mattered to the thing. It seemed able to brush all of Nicholas's desperate attacks off like flies.

As Krin came into sight, she shrieked and jumped. She came down on her foot wrong though, and struggling for balance, seized the draw-string of the flying machine. In another moment, Kokichi was hurtling straight towards the struggle, certain that his life was about to end.

As he landed, he heard Nicholas howl again, and also a colder, hissing noise that could only have been the thing. In another moment, though, his machine started vibrating wildly and thumping oddly. The old man struggled to his feet, disentangling himself, and he stared. The demon… or whatever it was, had gotten caught in the blades of the machine. Somehow it was being wound up there in the machinery. After a moment, it stopped struggling and glared malignantly at the old man. He shuddered and took an unconscious step backwards.

Nicholas, in the meantime, stumbled to his own feet, looking ravaged. At that moment, it was easy to see how sick he really was. "Thank you," he gasped in a choked voice, his eyes puzzled. "Thank you."

Kokichi couldn't even manage a '_heh_.' Nicholas shook his head, brushing his hair back into place, almost absently. He turned and said, "I've gotten all I wanted. I doubt that we'll meet again." With that, he turned and walked away.

Suddenly, all of Kokichi's tension exploded at once and he bellowed at nothing in particular. "Alright," he managed as he started to calm down. "Alright. First thing's first. We'll need to figure out," he pointed at his now incapacitated device, "something to do with this fellow."

---

He was pacing when they came upon him. Blades drawn by six soldiers, Eiku was taken completely by surprise. They seized hold of his arms and patted him down, thoroughly.

Enraged, the Sub-Commander spat, "Unhand me! I am the _Sub-Commander_ you dolts! I'll have you all dead! Or promoted depending on what you do now! I am-"

The familiar voice that cut him off was much more chilling than the very fact that he had been attacked. "They know who you are. And you no longer have the right to call on your rank for protection."

Lynx looked haggard. Unwell. His face was grey and there were dark circles under his eyes. Eiku sputtered, "Lynx!" Quickly regaining his composure he asked, "What do you want? Can't we settle this like gentlemen?"

A spasm of disgust twitched across the High Commander's face. "You are being arrested on charges of high treason, attempted assassination, and conspiracy to murder."

A weaker man might have lost his composure entirely. But Eiku was not weak. And he had known Lynx for a long time. He sneered, "You can't get away with this! Mishalea will laugh at your fucking charges! She won't even keep bedding you, if your brains have become this soft!"

Surprisingly, Lynx flinched. For a brief moment, Eiku considered whether or not the High Commander really was unwell. But he didn't have more than a brief moment. Lynx turned away, ordering his soldiers, "You may take the Sub-Commander and go." His voice was rough with emotion.

Eiku, desperate now, played his last trump card. "I'm the Sub-Commander," he screeched. "You can't just throw me in a prison cell!" Lynx never answered.

One of the soldiers leaned in and ripped the badge of office off of his chest. He replied urbanely, "Not anymore you're not, old boy. If you'll take a bit of advice from me, my man, you'll just go quietly."

Eiku didn't consciously take the advice, but he didn't speak again either. He was too shocked.

---

"So Lynx will have Eiku taken?" Nosshu asked, wearily.

Kalvar gave a quick nod. "Actually sir, the High Commander is doing that this very moment."

"I see." Nosshu stood up and paced over to his window. He wouldn't bother preventing anything. The wheel turned bit by bit and it rose everyone up and eventually crushed everyone down. The wheel would turn, one day, on him as well. And he just didn't care about anything much anymore.

He was so tired…

_I can't, Chief Ruburan. I can't. _

"And Hindel is in contact with… The Survivor?"

Kalvar nodded again. "That's it exactly." He hesitated for a moment and then added softly, "I don't know that I ought to go mentioning this chief…"

_Chief Ruburan… Chief Ruburan… Chief Ruburan…_

"But, well, the truth of it is, I know you killed Rente."

Nosshu stared for a moment. "You're worried about that?"

"Not particularly, he was slime, always, and I'm of the opinion that you gave him what he deserved. But… I can't help wondering if you'll do the same to me. I think I understand you, sir, but…"

Nosshu sat down again. "Kalvar, listen to me. I killed Rente because he was a slime… but never make the mistake of assuming that you know yourself. Eventually you'll find that you're capable of things you would never have imagined yourself being capable of. No, it's true that I might have killed you once…" He stared out of the window. "But it just doesn't seem to matter very much anymore…"


	39. Chapter 39: Interlude Part 4

Chapter 39:

Interlude Part 4

_It was cold. He couldn't focus on anything else. It was cold. Alf had never liked the cold. But then again, why should he? _

I always got more than enough bloody cold.

_He shifted, slightly, but he was still propped against the wall, lazily. He didn't want to stay in the cold, but he had to. The rain would make it alright. The rain was safe. Nothing could touch him if he stayed in the rain. But, Alf knew instinctively that something horrible would be bound to happen if he left the rain. _

_He glanced in the door at Morley's corpse. A weak giggle escaped from his lips. Morley had thought to take him off-guard and to kill him. He very nearly had, but Alf, at the last moment, had instinctively known and so… _

Their swords clashed. Alf sputtered, "Cayne? What? Stop!" Dodging a series of hacks slashes and stabs, Alf could feel himself being forced backwards. The younger guard's face was demonic.

Brandishing his blade he growled, "You humiliated me! You'll die for that!"

"No! You're mad!" Cayne ignored that and ran at him again whipping his blade in light little movements. Alf desperately parried, and Cayne, further infuriated, lunged forward again. He had always overacted. This time, though, Cayne was too hard and too fast. He slammed into Alfred and the two went tumbling and when Alf came up his throat was open and…

_A voice directed his attention away from that horrible duel. "Ah… Massster Alfred." _

_Alf was up on his feet in a flash, his blade pointing at the rather extended stomach of the reptile. "What are you doing here?" he demanded truculently. _

_Bangar's tongue flickered a little, betraying his nervousness. "Massster Pazort wishesss to sssspeak with you." _

_"Well maybe I don't want to speak with him! Tell him come here!" Alf paced around, raging furiously, and verbally abusing the reptile with his very best. It had been this one's fault that Mars had been able to garner the attention of Satera and… _

_He stopped abruptly, as he grasped the nature of the conspiracy. Bellowing furiously he lunged at the reptile, seizing it about the throat. He flung Bangar to the ground and commenced beating him wildly with the flat of his blade all the while screaming, "It was you wasn't it? You plotted it all out with Mars! You scum! You filthy lying traitor! You… you… you!" _

_"No pleassse!" Bangar was gurgling in his panic, and, moving faster than Alf would have imagined his bulk to allow, the reptile flung himself free and lay, prostrated at Alf's feet weeping pathetically. _

_"Stop that," growled Alf. "Take me to your master!" His rage was still hot and before the hour was out, Pazort would be dead. _

_Bangar scrambled up to his feet, rubbing at his throat. His eyes were plaintive, but he was evidently too frightened to risk worded complaint. He made one whimpering croak and then Alf felt that sensation of vertigo. _

_This time, though, he was not taken off-guard, and despite lurching slightly, he made his way up to Pazort well enough. His rage was so great that he would not satisfy himself by stabbing the elf. Besides, the one called Gwaid would doubtless step in if he tried that. Furiously he focused his mind, grasping for his power, gathering up the strength for a blow…_

_"Don't do that," said Pazort in a tone of profound disgust. He waved his hand negligently and the built up power faltered. Alf snarled inarticulately. Pazort's voice was dry. "I wouldn't try that either. Really, that was the most idiotic thing you could have done. In your present untrained state, you'd be just as likely to destroy yourself as you would me. More, in fact." _

_Alf stood there, chagrined. Pazort continued in an unruffled tone, "Anyway, why precisely were you trying to kill me? And why have you abused Bangar? We're all friends here, surely." _

_"You know why!" _

_"No, actually I don't. And it's horribly impolite to threaten your host." _

_"You're not my host," Alf screamed. _

_Pazort rolled his eyes and said patiently, "I'll let that pass. I asked you to come here because I would like to make a petition to Odegan. You're connected to the king, I understand?" _

_"A petition?" That seemed doubtful, but then Pazort had always been open-handed and fair… _

_"Yes. I do believe that's the word I used. Remarkable. There may be hope for you yet, Lord Alfred." _

_Alf warned hollowly, "I've already told you not to slight me." But he knew it was an empty threat and so did Pazort. Alf was curious. _

_Pazort shrugged, "It's a simple matter really." _

_Alf's mind was already spinning. He could turn this to his advantage most certainly. After all, it was Mars who needed to be stopped. Mars had corrupted the court of his cousin Ulrich and stolen Satera. That was the only possibility that Alf cared to acknowledge. _

_Blood pounding he gasped, "I can help you finish off King Ulrich." _

_Pazort's brows shot up. "Are you accusing me of intent to regicide? Really, that's a bit strong, wouldn't you say?" _

_Alf shrugged. "You wouldn't have to do that part if it makes you squeamish." _

_Pazort sat absolutely still for approximately two seconds. "That, Lord Alfred, is exactly what I want. I will gladly accept your generous offer of aid. Shall we?" _

_Before Alf could even frame a reply, he found himself and his strange compatriots standing before the entry into Odegan. Pazort gestured casually at the entrance, "What precisely do you propose, my lord?" _

_Despite himself, Alf smiled. Even when he was at his most offensive, the dark elf had style; a powerful and magnetic presence. _

_"We don't want to attack right away," he explained, all the while swelling with a sense of power and import. "It's best if we can scout out the situation first. I can do that and get back here within the hour. As soon as we know what the state of affairs in the castle is, we can attack with no problems." _

_The one called Nuge leaned forward, asking, "What kind of resistance do you think we'll meet from the guards?" _

_"Hmm, well Alec'll have to go. He'll rally them for glory if nothing else and of course there's Charter, but…" He stopped abruptly. Charter had gone off to the Hobbit's with Paul and Bob, and Paul had always treated him decently… _

_His hesitation came to an abrupt end, as he remembered how offensive Bob had always been. He jutted his jaw, "Three guards are making a journey to the Hobbit Village. You'll want to stop them." _

_"Hobbits?" Pazort's tone was sharp with concern. _

_Gwaid stepped out of the background. "I'll go," he offered. _

_"Aye," said Pazort. Brushing his hair backward, he continued, "Since you'll be there, drop in on the Hobbits, would you? If you get a chance, kill off their leader. But remember, don't go into pitched battle if an opportunity doesn't afford itself; just come back." _

_"Look here," snarled Alf, "I want this one to be clearly understood. We're cleansing Odegan of the corruption that's infesting the court for the sake of my cousin, Ulrich." _

_Nuge frowned, "But I thought you said…" _

_Pazort glanced at him sharply and then turned back to Alf. "Naturally, my lord. That was always the understanding." _

_"Good." He turned to go and, almost as an afterthought, called over his shoulder, "I'll be back." _

_He hurried through the corridors thinking rapidly. He could take this proof of the evil of Mars and the Chancellor before his cousin Ulrich, or perhaps he should tell Satera first… Now that was a thought. He paused for a moment, considering the possibility and stroking his chin. He absently noted that he was starting to grow some stubble. Perhaps he'd forgotten to shave. Alf never knew what he would have done next because in a bare moment the hall was full of shouting and running feet. _

_Alf seized the first guard to run by him, shouting, "What's happening…?" His voice cut off as he recognized Mars. _

_Mars shouted back, "There's some kind of attack. We've got to gather in the Throne Room by order of Ser Kaizel!" _

_Alf ran along, marveling at the sheer malevolence of Mars. Doubtless he had had some way of spying on Alf and realized that there was no time to waste and so he would have raised this alarm… A grudging admiration for his adversary started to bloom in Alf's chest. _

_The Throne Room was in almost near chaos. The Chancellor was screaming, "But surely… negotiations! I could-" _

_"Shut up, Chancellor!" All traces of the good-natured foolery were absent from Ulrich's voice. Alf smiled thinly; he had been right. His cousin had been playing the bumpkin, but now he would throw the charade aside and, with Alf's help of course, crush the treachery of the Chancellor. _

_Ulrich, resembling nothing so much as a great shaggy bear, turned his attention to the milling guards and roared, "Listen up! A group of you go and escort my daughter here! I mean now!" He caught sight of Alec. "You're a lieutenant, man! Prove that you should be wearing that medal!" _

_Alec saluted, looking a little shaky. He jogged towards the door, gesturing for a few guards to follow him as he went. Alf stood there for half-a-second, undecided. But then he dashed off after Alec. _

_Alec glanced back and said tightly, "Get out of my way Alf. Go back." _

_"Bugger that and bugger you," Alf snapped back. "She's my cousin." _

_Alec shrugged reluctantly. "Suit yourself." Alf basically ignored that and set off at another run, eager to get there first. Once again, he found himself dashing alongside Mars. Anger erupted in his soul. If he got there with Mars, Satera would most like assume that it was more of Ser Mars's gallantry and his one opportunity would go up in smoke. _

_His hand tightened on the hilt of his blade. If only he could maneuver it so that Mars could be killed. But he must not do anything suspicious whilst in the sight of the others… _

_An orb of what looked to be thin ice burst past Alf, missing him by a narrow margin and slamming hard into Mars's back. The younger guard gave a sharp cry and stumbled, hard. _

_Alf turned back and started at the sight of Bangar with Kari at his side. She was casually holding a spiked ball and chain and Bangar was firing more of the orbs of ice. Alf abruptly realized that they were there to help him so that he would get through first. It was a splendid distraction; he had to hand Bangar that much. _

_And despite how much he hated Alec, he also had to admit that the lieutenant bore up well under the strain. "Take a stand," Alec howled. "Somebody go off and get her, while the rest of us—" _

_"I'll go," shouted Alf taking off at a sharp run. He didn't wait for an assent, he just ran, knowing, that if he did, they'd have to stay. A minute brought him skittering to a halt in front of her door. He knocked, politely, and then, without waiting for a response stepped in. _

_The maid shrieked and Satera looked horrified as she sat up, clutching her coverlets around her curvaceous form. She squeaked, "What are you doing?! I command you—" _

_Alf cut her off, trying his best to remain professional, "My apologies, Princess. There's an attack and your father wants you in the Throne Room now." _

_"But," her lips trembled, "Ser Mars…" _

_"Mars," said Alf, making a point to drop the appellation, "is otherwise engaged at the moment." He added, remembering the Chancellor's jab of just two days ago, "I understand that the trait runs in the family." _

_The maid, circumventing her fear, managed, "Perhaps you would leave for a moment, Ser, whilst the princess dresses herself…" _

_"I think that His Grace would be more concerned about his daughter being kept alive than the state of her dress." He extended a hand, "I would prefer not to startle you, but by command of the king you must come with me. Would you prefer to maintain some semblance of dignity, or should I carry you?" _

_The maid gasped in outrage, but Satera just sighed and leapt to her feet, taking his hand. Alf nearly choked at the sight of her. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to take the extra minute to allow her to dress more properly. Satera's sleeping gown left very little to the imagination. Of course, Alf did not object to her skin or her form personally, but merely the impropriety of the situation. _

_But he could hardly dawdle at this point, so he merely grasped her hand all the more tightly and took off, trying not to watch all of the interesting things that were going on under the gown. Despite his efforts to keep his mind thoroughly professional, he couldn't help surreptitiously admiring the way her gown gave him the opportunity to note the exact shape and size of her breasts… and of every other, unsurpassed part. _

_It became worse as they started a light jog, however, because now the bouncing of her breasts was inescapable. Alf steadfastly refused to look, that is he tried to, but he couldn't keep himself from the distraction. _

Dammit! I've got work to do.

_Satera said timidly, "You're… you're Alfred are you not? _

_"Amazing," he said dryly. "You know my name." _

_A frown wrinkled her forehead, "What…?" Her voice trembled slightly as she managed, "Thank you for this service, kinsman. It is… very gallant of you." _

Gallant, yes. That's how she'll always think of Mars and never of me.

_Suddenly Alf's desire curled within his chest and only his anger remained. She had called Mars gallant as well; she had been present at the scene of his humiliation… His fury was wordless, however. He would sheath steel in the Chancellor for his treachery and liberate his cousin Ulrich. He would claim Satera's hand as his reward. He would… But there was no time for that. He could hear the sounds of conflict, perhaps just out of eyesight. _

_Alec, hearing their footsteps, turned his head back and his face reddened immediately. Thankfully he didn't belabor the obvious, but rather tried to rein Mars and Mike, the only other guards there that Alf recognized, in. _

_"Form up ranks and back—" _

_Mike shook Alec's grip off of his shoulder. "Oh, fuck that," he said, almost absently. The guard half-turned, "And don't bother me with your orders. Somebody's got to make stand here; you'll need a few seconds. Might as well be me." _

_With that, Mike turned, hefted his spear and threw himself bodily forward into Kari. The blue woman gave a cry of shock, but it was no good. Mike was in close and her chain and ball wasn't going to be much use. Mike who had, like Paul, always been decent to Alf… _

_Moments later he was running again with Alec, with Mars, and with Satera. Alf sniped angrily, "Why did you let Mike do that, Alec? You keep ramming your rank down our throats; that should have been your job!" _

_Alec accepted the criticism with surprising humility, his head low. "He… wanted to do it." _

_Alf had been working himself up into a good temper, though, and he wasn't going to let Alec ruin that by admitting his faults. Before he could launch into his tirade though, Mars said, in strangled tones, "Alfred, you know that I have a great deal of respect for you, but… really! Is that necessary?" He gestured vaguely at Satera. _

_Alf, his anger diverted towards Mars now, said blandly, "I assumed that you'd want her alive and naked rather than dead. Even if it wasn't her death we were talking about." _

_Satera blushed furiously, but Alf's attention was entirely on Mars. He continued, "At least that's what I've heard. You know, I had a very interesting conversation about this with that one widower. You remember that one, don't you, Mars?" Not much of a lie, mayhaps, but Alf was more rattled than he'd care to admit, anyway. _

_Mars said stiffly, "I would prefer not to continue this conversation." _

_Alf snorted. "Of course you would." _

_He didn't press the issue though; well satisfied that he had come off rather the better in that exchange. As the four of them entered the throne room, they found King Ulrich bellowing orders. Ser Kaizel stood, sword in hand, following the king's commands alertly. The Chancellor looked rather sullen. _

_Ulrich noticed them as he was in mid-roar, "And dammit, I want you…" He frowned in their direction growling, "Why is my… uh, Satera, go and put some clothes on." He gestured imperiously towards the back room. _

_The princess colored again, but said nothing as she sidled towards the door. Mars began at once, his voice strangled with outrage, "Your Grace—"_

_"Silence," snapped the king. He stood and made a negligent gesture with his hand. At the three doorways leading into the throne room, a barrier of some kind sprang up. And Alf had felt Ulrich's power. _

_That was it! He understood now, the king of Odegan was marked by this power… and some of Ulrich's blood flowed in Alf's veins. _

_The Chancellor purpled considerably. "Sorcery!" _

_"Why yes, Chancellor," Ulrich replied sarcastically. "I do believe that they call it that." _

_"But… but this is an outrage!" _

_"Do you want to take up that subject now?" _

_"Your Grace," Ser Kaizel cut in, "Might I be informed as to the strategic implications of our new situation?" _

_"That?" Ulrich shrugged. "They'll be through it sooner or later and we will have a confrontation. That was just to buy us time." _

_"I see. And is there some way in which military intelligence may be gathered, or are we doomed merely to wait for these villains?" _

_Ulrich's answer was slow in coming. "I can make it so that one could pass through… but they'll be in all the faster." _

_The Chancellor sputtered, "But this is an outrageous suggestion! I cannot believe that you are even considering it!" _

_Ulrich glanced witheringly at his most powerful advisor. "Please, Chancellor, do not insult my intelligence. As you might have noticed, that no longer amuses me. Do you want to inspire me to review your file?" _

_The other man turned white as a sheet, but he blustered boldly, "I have nothing to hide." _

_Ulrich more or less ignored that as he turned back to Ser Kaizel. "I am not certain that allowing such measures would be wise. The cost could well outweigh the gain. I noted that of the guards we sent for my daughter, at least one did not return." _

_At that, Mars came forward and spoke, affecting an air of dignity that Alf found rather disgusting. "Your Grace, I strongly urge you to allow us a chance at military reconnaissance. It is true that Mike did not return with us; he chose to sacrifice himself so that the princess would win through, but these are no ordinary opponents. The possibility that we may learn something of them must outweigh any risk as to how soon we shall have to meet them, Your Grace." _

_"You're well-spoken, lad," Ulrich noted. "Ebenezer gave you an education?" _

_"My grandfather was an exceptionally generous man, Your Grace." _

_"Aye. That he was." Ulrich frowned, absently stroking his beard. "Kaizel, what is the count of our armed forces at present? Did the warning get through to all in time?" _

_"Your Grace, we are all accounted for, save two young guards, Cayne and Morley. As regards them, I think we must fear the worst." _

_"The worst being that this dark elf is even now twisting whatever information they may have, out of them. Very well. It would seem I have no choice. Someone must go, certainly." _

_"Your Grace!" shouted Alf, edging forward. He went to his knees, "Your Grace, I beg the honor of being allowed to do this in your name." _

_The Chancellor practically screamed, "You are being held in contempt! On trial! Charges of treason, conspiracy to—"_

_"Not so, Your Grace." Ser Kaizel's voice was courteous, but firm. "You recently made a decision as regards young Alfred here, and I feel that it was a hasty one. He made a mistake, but he has more a less redeemed this failure with his honor." _

_Alf knelt there, choked with tears of gratitude. How could he have ever doubted his mentor? Even as the rush of that old warmth swept over him, Mars began again. _

_"Your Grace, I fear that I might have misled you with my evidence, though this was not my intention. Alf is my companion and my friend, I wish to say that straight off. He did make a mistake, and to my everlasting shame, I allowed him to make it. It must be said, however, that he is brave, loyal, and an exceptional swordsman. This very night, he escorted Satera to this very room whilst I and his other companions bought him the time to do so, and there is no one I would rather trust to such a risky mission as this." _

_Alf stared at Mars, dumbfounded. What was his nemesis playing at? Did this mean… was Pazort the true enemy? Ser Kaizel had betrayed him and knighted Mars, but Ser Kaizel had spoken for him now and… _

"Get up and fight," he screamed. He kicked Cayne's unresponsive body. "You have to fight! Get up off of the fucking ground and fight!" Cayne had to fight! That was the point. The rain was cool on his fevered skin… "Fight," he screamed. "Get up and fight!"

He had to get up… he had to fight. Something bad would happen. "Get up, damn you! Get up and fight!"

_Alf heard Ulrich's booming voice as if from a great distance. A spasm of disgust crossed his cousin's face, but the king's tone was perfectly amiable. "Well, then, Alfred—" _

He knows my name_, Alf thought numbly. _

_"-it would seem that you have been elected. I'm sure that you'll do well." _

_Alf couldn't say exactly what happened next, all he knew was that suddenly, he had passed through the magical barrier and was making his way along the stone corridors, looking for Pazort. _

_As he walked along, he had enough time to clear his mind. Mars was playing a treacherous double game and the Chancellor was actually his patron. That would be the meaning of the Chancellor's outburst… was it two days ago, now? He had targeted Mars, specifically, to disarm suspicion. Well, Alf was not so foolish as that! _

_Ser Kaizel and his cousin, Ulrich, were being cleverly manipulated and deceived. But what of Pazort? What of the alarm that had been raised? Was Pazort really his enemy too?" _

_"Ah, Lord Alfred. So good of you to join us." And there was the dark elf now. He looked… strong. Pleased. Above all, Pazort radiated self-confidence. _

_"What was the fucking meaning of that?" growled Alf. _

_"Of what?" _

_"This alarm! You've betrayed me!" _

_"That was an unfortunate mistake. Unavoidable, however. One of your guards ran slap-bang into Bangar and I'm afraid Bangar was just a little too slow to kill him before the alarm was raised. You played your part masterfully, however. Is it done then?" _

_"Is what done?" asked Alf, confused. _

_"Is everything prepared so that we may cleanse the corruption of Odegan?" _

_"Oh. Yes. I mean, that is…" Alf stumbled through an explanation of the barrier erected, though he didn't mention its perpetrator. _

_"Is that all? We can certainly be through that by dawn. And now? What is the next step in the game?" _

_"I'll go back and pretend I've gathered some intelligence on you," Alf explained. Why had he doubted Pazort? Pazort was his friend, fair and just. _

_"As you say. Until tomorrow, then old boy." _

_Alf turned away, but a sudden thought stopped him. What did Pazort hope to gain out of all of this? Surely he wasn't just doing it as a personal favor. Unless he was an enemy of the Chancellor? That would explain it, but still… _

_Alf continued walking away, enjoying, as he did so, the soft clicking of his boots on the stone, but stopped as he heard the unmistakable tones of Bangar emanating from a room to his left. _

_"I misssslike thisss," the reptile was complaining. _

_"You mislike many things," responded a second. Alf frowned. Was that Kari? He thought so. _

_Edging forward, he peered through the door, though he took some trouble to keep to the shadows. Perhaps he could learn something here. _

_Bangar lurched to his feet, insisting, "No! Thisss isss different. That one, Alfred, he isss mad! You have ssseen, he changes hisss mind hourly. Firssst, he is to help usss, sssecond, we are to help him clearing away his enemiessss! Master Pazort hasss lossst his witsss if he isss trusting thisss one." _

_Kari murmured something unintelligible. Bangar responded angrily, "If we had any brainsss, we should have run asss Gwaid hasss done." _

_Her voice was clear this time. "Gwaid didn't run away, Bangar." _

_"Yesss, he did and you know it! He hasss realized that Massster Pazort isss becoming dangerous. Unpredictable. If he would trusst all to thisss madman… And that isss ignoring the fact that raising the Dark Titan negatesss us. Why should he give us a reward if he hasss the unlimited power in his handsss?" _

_"Pazort is generous. He's never lied to us either." _

_"Becaussse he alwaysss needed us," retorted the reptile. "And he ordered me to allow that country bumpkin, that Marsss, to defeat me! What isss the purpose of such madness?" _

_The two were saying more, but Alf didn't hear it. His mind cast itself back, reflexively. He could hear Satera's voice even now. _

"Mars was so gallant father! The way he defeated that horrible creature!"

_And just now Bangar's voice. Pazort had been responsible for Mars's knighthood. Pazort had been responsible for Satera's affections. Pazort… _

_Stumbling down the passageway, Alf fell into a room, some little way away from his so-called allies. Even in his current state of mind, he was vaguely being conscious of how dangerous his position was. His fists clenched and his chest heaved, as he stood, surveying the room. Bellowing in rage, he upturned a small table crashing bowls, cutlery, a candle, and some scrolls to the ground. _

_He turned to a bookcase, then the bed tearing in his wrath. "He played me!" A kick sent a small tray of a table crashing down. "He played me!" _

_Alf sank down, beside the wreckage, weeping in rage and shame. Still trembling with anger, he rose to his feet carefully wiping his face dry. _

_He stood facing the doorway, a bitter smile on his face. After a moment, he set out again, rapidly in the direction of the Throne Room. He would be Odegan's bloody savior. _


	40. Chapter 40: The Madness of War

Chapter 40:

The Madness of War

Max was being very gracious today, Mae noted. His skills with people were showing again; he was personally escorting most of the council members to seats as he murmured polite, polished phrases to them. Many people could try the same technique, but it wouldn't really work all that well. Max had an aura about him, though, a powerfully magnetic presence which allowed him to use this tactic to perfection.

"Lady Mae." Her thoughts scattered as she turned, resigned, as always, to courtesy.

"Prince Nicholas," she replied, inclining her head respectfully. Many now used the honorific 'Your Grace' when speaking to the Cyprian prince, but Mae would not consider him a true king until he was crowned.

His eyes, steely at the best of times, tightened slightly at the subtle impropriety, but, regardless of what Nick thought, Mae's respect had not been feigned. When this prince had first come amongst the Shining Force, Mae had not cared for him overmuch. Nicholas had seemed, in many ways, vain, arrogant, swift to judge and reckless. Looking at him now, though, Mae felt as if she had watched Prince Nicholas undergo a process of indefinable, inarticulate, but definite change.

His arrogance had always, she suspected, been mostly a matter of the aloofness of royalty, a burden which he had not then learned to bear gracefully. When he had first come among them, though, Prince Nicholas had just fled captivity, the certain knowledge that he'd been betrayed, his capital subverted… Mae supposed that from a certain point of view, it could even be said that his alliance with the Shining Force had been an oath sworn under duress.

Now Nick radiated confidence, dignity, and a sort of cold shrewdness. He spoke more slowly than he had before, but still in the same sure way and he seemed older to Mae. Hollowed out. An abrupt sympathy for this brittle king welled up within the centaur as she looked, past his grey-blue eyes and into a brief glimpse of his heart.

For all of his muted grandeur, startling beauty, and unruffled grace, Nick's inscrutability seemed to be a reflection of Mae herself. Nicholas II was an impressive man, but that was because he had to be. That was at the root of Nick's stubborn pride, she was certain.

She glanced over at Max was talking quietly with Lowe. Beyond all of Max's political acumen, military brilliance, and belief in justice, compassion formed the root of who he was. Max was one of the kindest, most generous men Mae had ever known.

Nicholas was already the equal of Max when it came to politics or military judgment, but he was hard and unyielding. Despite his belief in justice, he exuded of harshness, because law and cold reason dictated his being. And Mae knew instinctively, not really certain how she knew, that Nick was hard, just, and absolute because somewhere he knew weakness. Somewhere, he was wracked by doubts.

Her throat dry, she asked, "Has Cypress developed a policy as regards our current circumstances?"

"Cypress," he said quietly, "stands for justice." A moment longer of silence stretched between them and then he murmured, "Pardon me," turning aside to speak, in lowered tones, to his aide, Ruce.

Mae returned to her previous study of Max wondering just what he hoped to accomplish in this meeting. It was obvious from the way that Lowe acted that he knew, and a faint flicker of absurd jealousy sparked within her. Max had used to speak to her, well in advance, valuing her advice, but now only Lowe had his ear.

_Is it because of my outburst the other day? Max sees me as an ice-block, albeit, his ice-block. A loyal ice-block._

Her ruminations were cut short as Max cleared his throat. "I believe that we're all gathered, so we may as well begin. Refreshment, anyone?"

Mae, despite herself, almost smiled. The change in Max was amazing. For some time now, he had seemed weighted down, weaker, burdened… but today all his focus, all his energy and all his old charisma had returned to him. He looked… happier.

Amidst the polite sea of acceptance and refusal of Max's offer, Mae found herself seated betwixt Anri and Prince Nicholas's companion, Mayfair.

"Your Grace," she murmured politely.

Anri glanced at her, her face ironic. "So formal Mae? I noticed that you omitted Nicholas's title just a moment ago."

"Oh, I… well that is…"

Anri laughed lightly, and held up a hand. "I wasn't criticizing you."

Thankfully, Max finally spoke and the need for polite conversation was at an end. "Very well then. I won't belabor you all with the obvious, everybody knows exactly what our position here, is." He leaned forward slightly and his voice deepened. "What many of you may not know is that we have, at our disposal, a chance of striking the enemy barricade down in one fell swoop."

Ian interjected, "Might I comment, Uncle?" Max nodded his assent and the swordmaster went on, "I have studied the same maps that you have, Uncle, and I'm well aware of the difficulties implicit in the sort of strike you propose. The most lightly held part of this barricade is also the furthest from us, and immediately before us, left or right, we must needs circumvent an entire army."

Max responded almost immediately. Mae's lips twitched slightly. So, Ian had a rehearsed role to play in this meeting. A role she had occasionally played for Max as well.

"My strategy is based off of certain… shall we say peculiarities?" It was a rhetorical question, Max continued with the same sentence. "Of one of the commanding officers amongst our opponents." He paused for breath and then went on, his voice eager. "You're all aware of the brief engagement that took place between our forces and Mishalea's new general, Slit. That is the essence of my strategy."

He stood up and suddenly extended his hand to Nick. "Your Grace, you have proven that you have a head for military tactics. You've seen the same maps that I have and that my nephew has. Would you care to comment on what you believe the best way to circumvent this barricade would be?"

Nick's features were expressionless, though his eyebrows did rise, fractionally. "It is a simple enough matter to see that our only hope is to reach them where they're not expecting us. That is, from the north."

There was a little bustling of whispers at that. Mae remained seated and silent. The cause for concern was obvious; the north meant attacking the lord of Iom, Solo. Unfortunately, he was behind the enemy lines.

Max quickly reestablished control, nodding smilingly. "Thank you, Your Grace. Unfortunately, as I'm sure everybody here noticed, there's one small difficulty with that. No, the crux of my plan still must strike at Slit." He paused again, and his voice took on a different note. It was sharper, more focused. In an obscure way, Mae realized, everything before now had been preliminary.

"When engaging Slit, before, I discovered two things. The first one was that he is, for any number of reasons, eager to commit to battle. The second, and no less important, was of a small outcrop of rocks just a few minutes east of Slit's camp. This outcrop is very important, because it could be held by a few, against a large force."

Gort rose, unasked, to his feet. Max nodded at him and the dwarf said, thickly, "Ah wus there, laddie, ahn yae're settin' oos a fight we cannae win. We might bae able to hit hem haerd, but we cannae win. Ahn 'twould serve no grand purpose."

"That's where you're wrong, Gort. It would serve a purpose. The very fact that Slit, in order to win a battle pitched on that ground, would have to commit his forces totally, is the point. Allow me to verbalize this scenario for you." Mae sensed that this was what Max really was after, and wondered if perhaps Gort's complaint hadn't been scripted after all. The elderly dwarf was respected as a military tactician, so, coming from him, the complaint would have some weight and Max would have the chance to explain the merits of his strategy, without risking an unknown argument. It was not, perhaps the wisest of tactics, to ignore potentially persuasive arguments, but Mae was confident that Max hadn't actually done that.

"In order to crush this resistance, Slit would have to turn his forces about entirely. And once he's done that… a second force can slip through the gap he'll have opened between his camp and General Cameela's. If that group pushes north hard enough, they'll be upon Solo before anyone has a chance to realize how badly Slit's been duped."

There was utter silence for a moment, and then Anri said quietly, "You're setting up a sacrificial diversion."

Max jutted his jaw. "Yes. There's no other way to bring this damnable barricade down, and if we leave it then it'll finish all of us. Besides, there's a chance that we'll make it back down south quickly enough to liberate the other group…"

Lowe objected, "We're hardly in any shape for an assault of this scale Max. It'll call for emptying the camp!"

"I know that," he replied calmly. "But the sooner we decide what to do, the sooner we can be out of here once we are ready. Ian?"

Ian said slowly, "Logically it makes sense. But who were you planning on ordering into the lion's den, Uncle?"

Anri said angrily, "I can't believe you're considering this! Have you looked into any other options?"

"What options are those, Your Grace? Surrender? Negotiations? Against _Mishalea's_ forces?"

Nick said quietly, "It is a simple matter of military tactics. I see nothing strongly objectionable in the plan that you have outlined, Lord Max."

Mae noted, almost absently, that some of the tension seemed to go out of Max. He sat there, watching as the Council descended into a debate, some arguing that Max offered the best strategy, others insisting that another way must be found. If one other unifying figure of the Shining Force itself were to speak up in defense of Max's proposition, then the course of action would be clenched. But it was not for Mae to pledge Guardiana's support. That was for Anri.

She leaned over, murmuring, "You Grace, I understand that this suggestion has shocked you, but necessity dictates that open combat is our truest option."

_Open combat_, she thought hollowly. She had said as much to Max only days before, and he had grown increasingly withdrawn from her. She had known that she would never have his love but…

_I always hoped to maintain his respect!_

"Your Grace?"

Anri muttered a gutter curse. "Ward will be having a field day. At last, his queen understands necessities!"

"Well then, should you not pledge Guardiana to-"

"I can't do that Mae. The words would stick in my throat. You must do that yourself."

"I don't have the authority-"

"In this, you do. I delegate it to you. Besides, you're respected by all here in a way that I will never be. I may be Nick's equal in royal heritage, but to him, your endorsement would mean more than mine would. Most of the others feel the same."

Mae paused for a moment, pondering Anri's words. Respected? Perhaps that much was true. Mae didn't have the personality to inspire love or any great sense of loyalty, but perhaps, despite her hardness, she did inspire respect, after a fashion.

Standing now, she cleared her throat, "Guardiana swears to abide by this strategy."

Max shot a quick, grateful glance at her. He said loudly, "In that case, I believe that there are only a few technicalities to settle." And of course, he was right. Guardiana and Cypress, the two most powerful presences here, had both agreed to abide by Max's rule, and it was likely that the Shining Force would have come to the same conclusion anyway.

Max turned now, to Lowe. "How swiftly can all of our forces be ready for combat?"

"Three days, minimum. Healing must be engaged in great focus to get people prepared swiftly enough, and then the healers will have to have at least a little rest."

"As you say. We'll plan to leave in four days."

"Lord Max… might I volunteer myself to distract Slit?" Mae glanced over in surprise at the speaker; Deanna. The young man had always been an enigma to Mae, but she had respected his privacy, knowing, all too well, what it was to want it.

Deanna continued quietly, "I speak for myself of course, as I would not dream of volunteering anyone else. I'll ask if my friends would consent to join me…" his glance slid along, past Max, to Nicholas, "With your leave, of course, Your Grace."

Mae frowned. Those two had been fighting over everything for as long as they'd both been in the camp. Yet now, Deanna was supporting Nick's authority?

The Cyprian king sat there, his features masked by stone, his body completely static. It was impossible to see what he was thinking. Finally, Nick said, "Of course. We must all honor our obligations, here."

"Splendid," said Max, rubbing his hands together. "We can continue this discussion after everybody's ready. You might as well take that as an order to adjournment, I want everyone to have a chance to get used to the idea. We can finish talking specifics tomorrow, then? Excellent. Superb. Anri, Lowe, Mae, would you be so good as to stay here a minute? Thanks, awfully. Oh, you too, Ian."

After a few moments, the tent had emptied and five individuals stood there, in an awkward silence. Finally Lowe offered, "I believe that you wanted to say something to us, Max?"

Max sighed, looking weary again. "Alright then. I'd appreciate it if no one interrupts me. I'm not good at these kinds of things, never have been, and if I don't get out what I need to say, then I probably never will." He went to Anri first. "Your… Anri, I let a rift grow between us over something foolish. I'm sorry. I know… I know that you were only trying to be helpful." His voice took on a slightly bitter note, "You're still wrong. What you said. But, I value you too much to let all our friendship go over one piece of bad judgment on your part."

Anri stood, looking almost as tired as Max did. "Max, I'm sorry if that's how you feel about it. Until you acknowledge the possibility, you're still blind as regards that. You have no objectivity."

Max's jaw set itself firmly. "You're wrong," he told her again. At that, he turned to Mae. "And you. I wanted to speak to you. I… you threw Kane in my face Mae. Mocked me. Hurt me. I don't know what else to say."

Surprisingly, Mae felt a tightness in her chest and her voice shook a little, wavering with open emotion. "Lord Max… I have tried to serve you as best I can, I… when you needed council, I spoke for you. When you needed a soldier, I fought for you, advised you and… here I stand. I may have made mistakes, but I'm your man."

There was another silence which was finally broken, again, by Lowe. "Well that was eloquent of you, Mae. Try to develop that."

Max sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Oh dammit Mae, I'm sorry too. I know I've been… difficult sometimes." He poured a drink. "But what can I say? It's the madness of war."

---

Lynx peered at the carefully written orders one final time, before sealing them. These orders made clear all of the treasons of Eiku and the necessity of his execution. Paezorta had come, to speak with Lynx about orders from Mishalea. The necessity of escorting some traitors of the Shining Force to Skull Castle. Lynx had carefully noted that down as well.

Sighing, the handsome man rose to his feet, ignoring the orders. Those would be given, eventually. He paced about, trying to create some semblance of order in his mind. His defeat at Pao still haunted him. He remembered the fires, the sounds of screams, the burning soldiers… And most of all, her.

_Get out, get out! _

Most of all, he found himself remembering the good days when he and Number One had been so close. The days before Lynx had given himself utterly to Mishalea. He had failed her, he knew. He hadn't been good enough for Mishalea and though she would probably have forgiven him for that in the end, Lynx knew that he would never forgive himself.

_Get out, get out! _

He had loved her too much. Number One's voice still echoed in his ears. How right he had been. It was the things that one loved that killed one. They had devastated Lynx, certainly. His dearest friend was dead… that was what Lynx was having the hardest time coping with, understanding. He had slain Number One's killer at Pao, but in the end, what had it done? Number One was dead and he had betrayed the trust Mishalea had put in him.

_I loved her too much. _

After Paezorta had come and gone, Lynx had tried to see to everything remaining that he could think of. He had been grateful for the High Captain's official visit. It had been good to see Paezorta again. Lynx had always respected him. He had gone and spoken, briefly, with Magus, after that, and then organized Eiku's arrest.

He paused, wondering if perhaps he should go to see Nosshu. No, he decided. Nosshu was of great aid to Mishalea, but ultimately Nosshu answered to no one. Lynx understood now what he hadn't before; it wasn't just the fact that Nosshu had betrayed his friends that Lynx saw in the tall man's eyes and melancholy bearing, it was the knowledge that Nosshu had betrayed himself. And the former thief knew it.

_The things,_ he thought wretchedly, _that we do for love…_

It was amazing, how very thoroughly a man would lie to himself, betray every precept of his mind, to convince himself of some particular self-image. It was amazing how many people could successfully do that. Lynx hated them. Lynx envied them.

_Get out, get out!_

He paced restlessly over to his mirror, and looked at the stranger reflected there. He was haggard and tired. He looked defeated. Of course, that was only fitting. He was nearly at the end of his rope. Lynx paused, feeling, that somehow, somewhere, he had missed something important. He had tried to attend to it all, but this thought nagged at him. What was it he had forgotten about?

He glanced over at the sealed parchment. That was alright. He had been very thorough when writing his orders. Finally he unsheathed his blade and stood there, still studying his reflection and the change that the sword made in it.

_Not much of one._

The burnished steel shone brightly in the torchlight. It was one of the most beautiful sights that Lynx had ever seen. With a sigh, he turned from the mirror, completely composed. In an obscure way, he supposed that what he was doing was dishonorable. But then, maybe honor didn't really matter.

---

"Alright then, I don't actually have that much time to spare for you. What is it?" Mishalea was impatient. She had agreed to meet Rilix here, in part to placate her ally, and in part, because Rilix had never bothered her with trivial matters before. And despite how she had made light of Gepple to the Vandal, she was aware that the undead man could prove to be very troublesome.

Rilix looked to be in her usual health. She simpered, "Well there's Gepple of course. He's betrayed you definitively for Zeon."

"Zeon?" she asked, grimacing. The king of the devils had proved to be a nuisance just far too often. That was the other reason she was here and the other reason she was eager to get back to Skull Castle. Provided Rilix could tell her what she wanted to know, the moment she got back, she and Zeon were going to have a final confrontation.

"Oh yes. Zeon has more or less ordered Gepple to kill Bazoo. And that's what he's doing."

Mishalea's rage erupted hard. "Damn him!" She wanted Death Woldol's cabal to be separated, weakened, but it was too early yet to kill any of them. Frabell had been an unfortunate necessity, but so far Death Woldol had not the power to challenge Mishalea, nor, apparently, the inclination. And she couldn't allow anything to risk upsetting the barricade.

_Damn you Max. If it wasn't for you, Zeon wouldn't be my problem. Neither would Warderer!_

It was Max's fault she had to be in this position now, and she resented him for that, bitterly. "You're certain of this?"

"Of course." Rilix sounded smug, as usual. That was starting to seriously irritate Mishalea. If she didn't actually need Rilix, she would be severely tempted to kill the bitch just to be rid of that mocking voice! The Vandal continued, "I could show you, if you like."

"No need," replied the Lady of Darkness. "If Bazoo dies, it's a negligible loss and I long ago took precautions should Gepple prove false. I need to head back to Skull Castle as quickly as possible. I want you there as soon as you can make it as well. We'll look in on Gepple then. If he's still a problem, I'll kill him."

Rilix looked taken aback. Doubtless the Vandal had been expecting a much longer meeting than this, for all of the trouble she'd gone to, to get it set up. Mishalea didn't care. Even if she didn't need to get back to Skull Castle to destroy Zeon, Lynx would soon have Ridion and his friends and Mishalea would need to treat with them.

Furthermore, leaving Skull Castle had turned out to be fruitless. She couldn't find Warderer anywhere. Oh, she could still feel his presence, his familiar edgy brilliance, but she couldn't find him. Had he purposely lured her out of Skull Castle so as to take over during her absence?

The fastest she could know that was to conclude her business here. "Do you know of ways to destroy the ancient artifacts of power?"

Rilix was fast on her feet, usually, but now the Vandal allowed a look of complete surprise to pass her features. "Yes. Why?"

"Just tell me how to do it."

Rilix hesitated, hedging, "It varies, depending on the type of artifact and so on."

"I'm not interested in your crystal," Mishalea said exasperatedly. "I'd have to be mad to want to destroy that, you've made it nothing but useful for me. Think of a structure with stress lines. A receptacle of power."

"Ah," said Rilix, sounding very interested. "Like a… gem, perhaps?"

Mishalea didn't allow the guess to faze her. "Mayhaps."

Rilix gave her a particularly ugly smile. "Such things can only absorb so much. Overflow it with power and it will shatter. Any use it may once have held will be gone."

"Would shards still contain traces of the power?"

"I couldn't say," the Vandal replied blandly. "There hasn't been much experimentation in that field."

Mishalea sat there, for a moment, considering. That was what she had guessed the answer would be, and Rilix had no reason to lie to her about this. Finally she turned to thank the crone, but Rilix gasped loudly.

The Vandal sat, more hunched over than ever, her eyes flat as she clutched at her crystal. "I can feel him… moving closer…"

At that, Mishalea became very interested. "Who?"

Rilix was muttering words in some tongue that Mishalea didn't know, and she could only pick out a phrase here or there, but then, couched amongst other unrecognizable words, Rilix uttered a familiar and completely chilling name.

"Var hode mar, Otrant…"

Mishalea rose to her feet. Rilix didn't seem to notice. Suddenly, returning to Skull Castle seemed like an even better idea than before.

---

"We're booked." Ridion looked smug.

For her part, Tao was resigned. She had realized that it was a necessity, she had made up her mind… and perhaps it was because she was certain of her path now, that she allowed herself the luxury of regret.

Ultimately, this was for the good of everyone involved. Max had to be stopped, cold-hearted bastard that he was. That necessitated some hard decisions, but if she had to condemn the council to death, she would.

The choices were always hard and the mark of true leaders was a willingness to make them. Tao would always feel a lingering affection for Lowe, for Domingo, even for Max, despite his evils, but peace had to come. There was no other way.

She took a deep breath, fighting the remorse. Once the war was stopped, the suffering could be attended to properly. And Paezorta's influence was strong in Skull Castle; with his help, she would intercede for as many lives as she could.

Max's deceit still angered her, but what was really troubling was the knowledge of how much she still desired his approval.

_Dammit! I love Paezorta, not him. _

The third, and final conspirator of their little group, spoke then, breaking the silence. "I don't like this."

Ridion shrugged indifferently at Musashi. "Ye don't have ter like it. 'Tis necessary, me matey. Who 'mongst us wants ter prolong the fighin'?"

_He makes too little of Musashi. _

That wasn't a good thing. Truth to tell, Tao had been very surprised when the samurai had, unhappily, joined them in this conspiracy. He was acting for much the same reasons that Tao had been forced to act, of course. Both of them realized quite well that it was Max who had refused to make peace overtures, not the other way around.

Musashi had his pride, but the constant suffering sickened him. That… and Hanzou. Tao still felt a little guilty about that. Musashi had discovered her whilst Ridion was outlining details of his plan, and after that, they had either needed to bring the samurai around to their way of thinking, or they would have to kill him.

Tao had argued out the justness of such an act, the humanitarian values involved, but, although Musashi seemed to be receptive, it hadn't been enough. In a stroke of genius, she had duplicitously suggested to him that it was Hanzou who was responsible for the corrupting influence in the Shining Force. That had clenched matters and the samurai had finally joined them.

At this point though, it was evidently clear that he didn't like Ridion and Ridion didn't like him. For that matter, Tao had little liking for Ridion either. The dwarf just didn't have a likable personality. But he was necessary and he was helping Tao to do what she must.

Musashi suggested hopefully, "It's not too late. We could still take these offers of peace to Lord Max and-"

"Nuthin' doing." Ridion folded his arms and jutted out his chin aggressively.

Tao angrily jabbed her elbow into his side and muttered, "Let me handle this." She turned to Musashi, speaking audibly now. "We can't. Hanzou's been spewing his poison into Max's ear for too long; how far do you think we'll get with that in the way?"

"I could kill Hanzou first."

"You could try to kill him," she corrected. "And very possibly fail. Even if he didn't manage to out-maneuver you, how do you think the others will take it when they see you attacking him?"

"Everyone knows me for a man of honor-"

"That didn't stop Gort from keeping you and Hanzou away from each other," she reminded him. "Trust me, Musashi. Max's judgment is impaired at the moment… but afterwards he will come round. He'll realize that we were right."

It was harder, talking about him though. And the betray… No. She was not betraying anybody. She was acting for the greater good. It was Max who was a traitor. He hadn't even taken notice of her at the meeting, but he had asked for Anri to stay behind. Her blood simmering now, Tao shook of the confines of regret. Max deserved what was coming.

Ridion said loudly, "Be all this at it may; I got things ter tell ye. I been in contact with our friend, an' 'e sez that we should come up wit' some reasonin' to abandon the main party once the battle starts and that, when we slip away, some friends o' his will be comin' to bring us to talk peace." He spread his hands wide, his face expansive, "'Ow's that sound, mates?"

Tao considered briefly. It was more or less what she had expected. They would want to meet with Mishalea, covertly, and hammer out the terms of the new peace agreement. And it would be up to Tao and the others to deliver the Shining Force.

It was a hard thing to do. But then, life was hard. Loyalty to her friends was habit… but how could she condone needless death and destruction? And if they would condone it, were they really her friends anymore?

Her throat tight, she turned to look at her two compatriots. Musashi was silent and a little weary looking, waiting for her to speak. He would follow her lead. Ridion looked well-satisfied and slick, as always. Finally she said, "Very well. We'll get some sort of scouting detail."

---

Solo was feeling edgy. Harkan had left, late last night, and now there was nothing to do but to wait and hope that his gambit paid off. He had encouraged the lord of the Nar to take only a few others with him, men that he knew he could trust. Solo had also encouraged Harkan to take pains with the usage of poisoned knives.

Solo of Iom restlessly rose to his feet and paced. His scheme was perfect… always providing that it went according to plan. Harkan had never failed Solo before, though, so there wasn't any real reason to be seized by this debilitation, these doubts.

Trying to calm his nerves, Solo ran through the scenario again. Harkan would have no problem gaining entry to Skull Castle; as a senior lieutenant to a dark general, his arrival would cause no questions so long as Mishalea didn't find out. Harkan would then make his way to Barbara and kill her.

He would work quickly then and plant evidence that Zeon would take as proof that Mishalea was trying to implicate him in a murder which she had actually committed. The fighting between those two would erupt at once, and one would be dead with the other seriously weakened.

At this juncture, Solo would step in allowing King Warderer to know of the situation and Warderer would kill off his weakened foe, thus becoming the undisputed ruler of darkness well able to turn all attention to crushing the Shining Force.

Solo would immediately be raised to imminence in his king's eyes for offering Warderer his most hated enemy's head on a silver platter. With Barbara dead, there would be no one left in the ranks of Iom strong enough to dispute Solo's power, nor to displace it. Hindel would still distrust Solo of course, but without Barbara to back him up, the Black Knight would be forced to stand aside.

Only now Solo was wishing that the deed was already done, wishing that he wouldn't have to wait! This very fact disturbed him; he was a seasoned battle commander, surely he wouldn't have such difficulties with his nerves anymore.

Of course, he reasoned, one very legitimate concern was that he had neglected to consider that Harkan would have taken his most capable followers amongst the Nar with him to do the deed. This left Solo with largely unknown officers to whom he would prefer not to delegate any responsibility.

With an exclamation of impatience, Solo stalked out the tent, eager for a distraction. He stood silently, for a moment, watching as his men oversaw the continuing construction of Alshar. Very soon this fortress would be complete.

Solo waited a moment longer until he finally spotted the overseer. He barked, "You! Yes, you there. Come over here!"

The man dashed over, his eyes wary. "My lord?"

"Find me the slave, Luagor. Now."

Looking slightly relieved, the overseer nodded quick assent and dashed off again. "My lord," Solo mocked savagely. "Yes my lord, no my lord, three bags full my lord!" He muttered angrily, "Fools. All of them!"

In short order the spy was on his knees before Solo, practically choking with fear. Solo chuckled. "Fear eh? Wishing you never got involved with me? Well, I don't blame you, because you might be very dead very shortly."

"I live but to serve-"

"Damn right," snapped Solo. "You told me of a rebellion being formed against me, Luagor. Well, you're going to tell me everything that you know of it now!"

The spy was terrified, but he was fast on his feet. He choked out, shakily, "The… uh, er, leaders. I meant besides the ones you killed. Ferik, old Ferik," he shouted. "And, uh, Ara too! They work in the lower levels and are still um-"

"Shut up," shrieked Solo. "I already know all of that, dolt! Tell me something important and I might be persuaded to raise you up to my personal forces!" Not giving Luagor a chance to continue Solo raged, "I'll show them what happens to traitors around here! Scum! Filthy_"

A deep voice asked, "Lord Solo?"

Solo turned to see a group of what he estimated to be nearly fifty strange men standing around an armored figure mounted on a white horse. One of them was slightly ahead of the others, and it was he who had asked the question.

Neither in the mood for interruption nor for any more shocks, Solo growled, "Who the bloody hell are you?"

The man bowed deeply. "Lord Solo, on behalf of my master, I beg your hospitality."

"What? Who… why?"

The man sounded faintly amused. "Can there be any doubt? On behalf of our mistress we have come to inspect these facilities and to introduce ourselves to you, Lord Solo. I present to you none other than Sir Gwaid."

---

"Damn Mishalea and her important concerns," cursed Cellion. He had only barely arrived at Skull Castle, empty-handed, and neither Mishalea nor Lord Eiku could be found.

The archer sat at his desk, burying his face in his hands. By all the gods above and below, how had things gotten so confused? All Cellion had had to do had been to catch a wounded centaur, an old man, and a little girl and he had failed miserably.

The only reason he was still alive and serving in the first place was because of Lord Eiku's generosity! He had fully expected demotion at the least, after the disastrous affair at the border fortress. Now he had failed again.

Worse, there might be a leak in Lord Eiku's chain of command; he didn't know what General Cameela was planning…

That clenched things. He would merely have to try again. At that moment, just as he made up his mind conclusively, a banging sounded on his door. Cellion snapped bad-temperedly, "What is it?"

A soldier burst through the door, looking utterly distressed, confused and bewildered. Cellion was about to offer him a seat, but the man burst out, "Captain Cellion, you must come at once! Something terrible has happened!"


	41. Chapter 41: Gambit

Chapter 41:

Gambit

Eiku estimated that he had been held for about five days by the time the men arrived. The first day he had raged and sworn and threatened to kill, but there had been no guards to vent his spleen on. There didn't need to be; he was being imprisoned in the most formidable level of Mishalea's dungeons. Nobody ever escaped from this level.

In the end, however, the Sub-Commander had accepted his position with what grace he could manage. What else could he do, after all? He had been completely unprepared for Lynx's boldness. And now his old enemy had won the game.

Just thinking about it made Eiku's blood seethe with frustration. He hadn't, he told himself very firmly, really lost yet. Lynx had not ordered his execution, evidently, so he still had time, but how much? And more importantly, why? Eiku was reasonably confident that whatever spurious claims to justice Lynx had come up with would never be enough to sway Lady Mishalea. Unless… unless they were true claims. Could Lynx have known about Cameela? And the swordmaster, before her?

And just as abruptly as he had been thrown down here, the door creaked open. Eiku blinked at the sudden glare of the torchlight, swallowing nervously. Suddenly, he was very thirsty. He couldn't see very clearly, but it looked as though there were three or four men.

"Where," he rasped, but then he had to stop. He had wanted to ask where Lynx was; he was certain that his adversary would have wanted to gloat a bit beforehand and probably he would have wanted to carry out the execution himself. Eiku couldn't get the words out; however. His throat was too hoarse from disuse and too little water.

Three of the soldiers made their way in, and two of them grabbed Eiku from either side, yanking him to his feet. The other man circled around, keeping his sword close to Eiku's back. Flanked on three sides, Eiku was led out of the prison and into the hall. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that there were five men total. The three who had come in for him, another one who was now guarding the front of him, and a fifth one who had the look of some kind of officer.

_What?_ _What is this? _

It took him only a moment to connect the facts with the obvious. Lynx had ordered that his execution be the death of a common traitor. Eiku, weary though he was, purpled in anger. This was outrageous!

To his surprise, however, he was escorted neither to Lynx's rooms nor to the courtyard. Rather, the men took him straight to Mishalea's shrine. The audacity of the move stunned Eiku. Lynx could hardly mean to borrow his lady's shrine to execute his most hated foe!

The soldiers roughly shoved him through the entryway, and there was Mishalea. Eiku had been escorted to this shrine many, many times in the past, but never completely disheveled, stinking, or so unceremoniously.

The Sub-Commander chose to stop trying to understand these bizarre occurrences. It clearly wasn't doing him any good. He husked, "My lady-" but broke off in a fit of coughing, unable to get any further. He wasn't even sure if the meaning of the first phrase had been clear.

Mishalea said in a disgusted voice, "Get him a cup of water." She sat straight up, neat and composed. Her eyes were hard and suspicious. She began, without preamble. "I had gone to look into some few troubling details, and imagine my surprise when I got back! To find my High Commander dead and my Sub-Commander imprisoned."

Eiku choked on the water he was greedily sipping. "Dead?" His voice sounded clearer this time.

"Oh yes. You wouldn't have known. You've been in jail a long time."

"How?"

"Suicide," she said shortly. Her gaze was cold. "Tell me what happened here, Eiku."

He immediately brought the cup back up to his lips, playing for time. Eiku knew Mishalea; and everything in her manner suggested to him that his life depended on the answer to her question. The only thing was, how much did she already know? She couldn't know why Lynx had probably arrested him, or she would have already killed him as a matter of course, but if she'd already had a report from an outside source, Paezorta mayhaps, and he contradicted anything that had already been said…

Praying that this was the right answer Eiku croaked, "I felt that stronger measures were necessary to deal with the Shining Force than did High Commander Lynx, despite our current circumstances." It was a fairly safe half-truth. Mishalea had listened to both of them arguing matters of policy before and she knew where their styles differed.

"Quite. As do I."

Taking this for encouragement, Eiku decided to toss the dice. "Due to various frictions that have been springing up amongst our assorted commanders, I thought it best to continue implementing another, much firmer approach to the problem in the event that the barricade failed. General Cameela had a near escape with death, and Supreme General Slit has been having difficulty in receiving full cooperation with our mutual friends and-"

"Enough," she snapped. "Why wasn't I informed of the scope of these difficulties from the beginning?"

Mishalea didn't look too surprised, so she had probably known some of it. Feigning surprise, Eiku said, "But the High Commander told me that it was only after direct consultation with _you_ that these measures would continue to be the only ones enforced and-"

"What?" she sputtered.

_I have her. I _have _her! _

Eiku then continued to give his highly creative report of the occurrences at Skull Castle, although he was as careful as he could be to not outright lie. By the end of it, he managed to make every bad decision appear to have come from Lynx, in addition to dropping subtle hints that Lynx had been behind several of Eiku's own treacherous schemes from the start. Above all, he subtly convinced Mishalea that he had been worried about the ramifications of the quarreling from the start and that it was Lynx who had chosen to ignore it.

To be sure, he mused, his adversary had granted Eiku extra weapons to use against him, merely with the form of his death. Although Eiku couldn't be certain, he suspected that Lynx's shockingly changed appearance had been rooted in his defeat at Pao and perhaps some angry words that Mishalea had thrown at him. The High Commander had obviously been in a devastated emotional condition, and the less rational he looked, the more plausible Eiku's fabrications sounded.

As he finished, there was a heavy silence, and nervousness curled its fingers around Eiku's heart again. This was _Mishalea_ he was lying to, and she knew that he had always hated Lynx…

But perhaps her judgment had also been affected by the distasteful relationship she had had with the dead man? Certainly she had seemed pensive and more reckless recently. And after all, given Lynx's mental state the last time she had seen him, how unlikely was it that he would have committed himself to some fairly stupid, vengeful actions? What other explanation could she accept?

Eiku knew there was only one other possibility, and that was that Lynx had had just cause to arrest him. Mishalea could think that as well, but Eiku thought he understood her, thought that he had pitched his lies the right way. He hadn't tried to prove anything, just put down subtle implications and he'd confined himself strictly to Lynx's actions as regarded the current crisis. He hadn't grown outlandish… but Mishalea was still silent. And so he wondered…

"This has come at a very bad time," she said. Her voice was still cold, but her eyes didn't look quite so deadly. "And I am not a military woman, Eiku. I cannot wait to have this taken care of." She leaned forward, picking up the glossy, embossed emblem of the High Commander. "Commander Eiku," she said, cutting through about half an hour's worth of pomp that would usually accompany such an appointment, "don't disappoint me."

Eiku felt a little hiccup of triumph rise in his chest. His mouth dry, he gazed at the longed for symbol of power and prosperity. His voice rich with satisfaction he said, "I will not fail you, milady. By tomorrow morning I should have many options to suggest."

She merely gave him a hard look. "See that you do." At that moment, a soldier came in. "What?" she snapped.

"The Lord Harkan has returned to Skull Castle, Milady, with business for General Hindel."

"What do I care? Show him in and don't bother me with trivial matters." She turned her attention back to Eiku. "Don't you have more important matters to be attending to?"

Eiku muttered a hasty apology and retreated as swiftly as he could. Evidently his gamble had paid off, and, after all, why shouldn't it have? Given Lynx's emotional state at the time he had arrested Eiku, it was a view which could be attributed to the former High Commander without too much difficulty.

_Mine. All mine. _

As Eiku seated himself back at his desk, he wondered, briefly, why Lynx hadn't taken precautions to see that Eiku would be executed after his death. Ah, well. He hadn't, and it was no matter, provided that Eiku cleaned up whatever traces Lynx left behind. And so, he summoned Captain Cellion.

---

When the summons finally came, Cellion allowed himself a moment of relief. It had been a risky thing, what he had attempted, but serving with Eiku had allowed the archer to know when times called for bold action.

He snorted derisively. The reports that he'd gotten from any number of men confirmed without a doubt that High Commander Lynx had been in a devastated emotional state. That didn't surprise Cellion much, but by the gods above and below it did disgust him.

Fortunately, he had been right on hand when Lynx's death had been discovered. The panicked and demoralized soldier had been frenzied at the fact that neither Sub-Commander Eiku nor Lady Mishalea could be found and had rushed off to Cellion next, knowing that he was Eiku's second in command.

Realizing the opportunities inherent in the situation, Cellion had willingly gone to Lynx's corridors, where he had then been left alone. Cellion's initial irritation with the Commander's act of cowardice, he should have behaved more like a man after all, had faded and eventually been replaced with exaltation as he saw the potential gains of the new situation.

Cellion found the dead man's orders, neatly sealed and waiting to be read, and broke them open. The letter was about as bad as it could be; Lynx had already arrested Eiku and he knew about General Cameela it seemed. There was also an interesting note about traitors from the Shining Force. The rest of it was rather maudlin and self-pitying.

Cellion hadn't wasted any time. He started by pocketing Lynx's letter, certain that Lord Eiku would know best what was to be done about it, and had then proceeded to create a new one. He had written with a shaky hand, liberally staining the ink. He hoped that if the letter was ever examined by anyone who knew the High Commander's handwriting, the unrecognizable note would be put down to his devastated emotional state.

The new letter, Cellion's creation, claimed that Lynx was killing himself because he had loved Mishalea and he couldn't live with the shame of having failed her nor with the callous way she had treated him upon his return. Furthermore, as he now had nothing left to lose he would finally act against Eiku to prevent his corrupting influence from having any further effect on Mishalea. Cellion had also taken the precaution of copying the last several sentences exactly; there was nothing compromising in them after all, just more disgusting babble about Lynx's personal life. After sealing the letter with Lynx's own ring, quite a distasteful process, Cellion summoned some more men, ostensibly to begin cleaning up. Lynx hadn't even had the consideration to prevent making a mess, he had slashed his own throat open; consequently there was a good deal of blood.

What Cellion really wanted them there for, of course, was the finding of the letter. He 'found' it as they were in the midst of mopping up the mess that Lynx had left behind, broke it open, and read it aloud right there before witnesses. There seemed to be no doubt as to the letter's veracity. All the men had known of Lynx's hatred for Eiku, and they had all seen how devastated the High Commander had been after Mishalea turned him away. In that state of mind… no, selfish vengeance didn't seem like a stretch at all.

Cellion smiled as he walked into the Eiku's room. He bowed, formally. "High Commander. It's good to see you looking so well."

Eiku returned the greeting with a thin smile. "Sit down… Sub-Commander Cellion."

"Thank you, sir."

"I understand that you found the body?"

"Yes sir. High Commander Lynx wasn't a stupid man of course…" Cellion lowered his voice, "You're well aware, I presume that he took precautions?"

"I assumed that he would have. And you… took further precautions?"

Cellion removed the letter from his tunic, patting it encouragingly. "Indeed."

Eiku chuckled appreciatively. "I took the liberty of having the High Commander's suicide note brought to me. That was sheer genius on your part." His eyes narrowed. "Now I'm interested in the real thing."

Eiku's examination was brief, but thorough. "Hmm," he said at last. "So he knew about Cameela…"

Cellion leaned forward, "If you'll allow, sir, I've thought about that a good deal." Eiku waved a magnanimous hand. Cellion felt a small glow of pride; Eiku had given him an extra chance after that disgusting debacle back at the border fort, and now he had not disappointed his master. "Well," he began, "I think it must have happened like this. We speculated that Warderer saved General Cameela. I think, sir, that this clenches that theory. Warderer saved her and told her as little as possible, but he knew all along what had happened. Now, he keeps this knowledge to himself, waiting for a moment to turn it to his advantage. I'd guess that he hinted to General Cameela that Lady Mishalea had a hand in things, so as to create friction between her and General Slit. That would be in keeping with the dispatches that we received from the front."

Eiku sprawled out in his chair, nodding. "It's alright as far as it goes. Yes, that all fits, and then he hoped to spread discord by telling Lynx…"

"After he saw that the High Commander was in such a dangerous state of mind," Cellion concluded. He continued reconstructing the event as it must have happened. "He showed Lynx some sort of proof and the High Commander felt free to move against you, sir, and he did so. However, the High Commander was already in a peculiar state of mind; I think that he probably made up his mind to kill himself after he had you taken sir. He thought of you as a parting gift to Lady Mishalea. A touch of the dramatic, like that, would have suited him." A brief smile touched his lips at that. Lynx had been a disgusting man; such a gesture would not have been beneath him.

Eiku, easily keeping up with the scenario guessed, "And then, having taken me out of the way, he proceeds to kill himself with all the flair he thinks suitable, because he thinks he has irreversibly damaging proof against me, and that I will be attended to. Ha!" Eiku fell back laughing with delight. "But the fool never realized that you would be summoned first and so…"

"What about the rest, sir?"

"That might be worth looking into." Eiku steepled his fingers, speculating aloud, "All of Lynx's most trusted commanders died at Pao, save for his newest and most inexperienced man. That one bears watching. If he knows anything at all, or is too loyal to Lynx, he'll have to go. If we can get hold of this mage, however…

"Pardon me sir, but that wasn't what I meant. I was referring to the other final orders of the High Commander."

"What? Oh yes. I hadn't read the whole thing; I was just interested in…" Eiku lapsed into a momentary silence as he scanned the lines. "Tao… but she's been with Max since the beginning and… good god!" His hand shot out and clapped itself over Cellion's wrist. "Get back out there!"

Nonplussed, Cellion asked, "Sir?"

"I mean, now dammit!" Eiku's breath was choppy and harsh. He paused, obviously trying to pull himself together. Exhaling deeply he quickly started outlining whatever obscure train of thought had resulted in the outburst. "If Lynx ordered this matter of such import, then he was already authorized to do so by either Mishalea or Paezorta. He was also considerate enough to put it down in writing… but he never gave the orders."

Cellion nodded politely, following all of this. It wasn't a difficult deduction, but he wasn't quite certain what was so pertinent about the situation. If the war could end this year after all… Trying his best to appear engaged, he snapped his mind back to the conversation.

"Put together a team of hand-picked, trusted men. Take Tarbeck with you too."

Cellion didn't bother hiding his surprise there. The Chief-Gaoler had been of great use to Sub… High Commander Eiku, but surely he wasn't the sort for a military expedition. "You want to intercept Lynx's duties and claim the credit?"

Eiku ignored that. "Get out there. Find them and find out what they know. Then kill them."

"_Kill _them? Sir, have you gone mad? Crossing the Lady at this juncture over something like this? We'll both end up on the block!"

Eiku shook his head, a crafty glint in his eye. "Oh no. The last anyone knew, this was Lynx's duty. Say that he chose to give those orders personally, before ending his miserable existence… and in his pathetic vengeance, he thought he'd order the negotiators killed, rather than escorted back for negotiations?"

Cellion's breath came in a sharp rush. The plan was typical of his master; brilliant. He gazed at the now High Commander, sincerely admiring this man who so relied on him. "This way, we get to know whatever they know _and _weaken the Shining Force all in one blow?"

"You might say that." High Commander Eiku turned away, pouring himself a drink. He took a deep breath, "Now hurry! This task is of paramount importance."

---

Dawn gripped her spear more tightly, considering the best way to proceed. Now she finally would have to make up her mind as regarded the mysterious young man who had become the center of her life. She had followed Deanna to this suicidal battle because it was her duty, just as it was his duty.

And now she would have to decide, was Deanna a traitor, or merely an odd man whom she would never warm to particularly?

_If he betrays us… if he hurts Natasha I _will_ kill him._

Her throat tightened at the thought. Even if he did turn out to be false she would be reluctant to slay him. Not only was he their lawful lord, but there was Natasha to consider. Such a disgraceful death for Deanna would incapacitate the mage with grief, and Dawn couldn't profess to any desire to do that to her friend.

But if she were honest with herself, she knew that it went deeper than that. She had come… to want to believe in Deanna. For whatever reason, she had almost become fond of him, grudgingly, unwillingly, resentfully… but she couldn't imagine his absence from her life anymore. Or mayhaps it was pride, she acknowledged. After all, she wouldn't want to have to admit that she had been so wrong in her judgment…

Her eye roved critically over the group who had volunteered to die in order to further the Shining Force's aims. Besides herself of course, all of Deanna's command had come. It was his right to demand their obedience; he had done nothing to forfeit the position he held after all. Even Eric hadn't spoken out against Deanna's orders. But then Eric only thought in terms of the glory he could reap from such a great battle. Eric was truly hopeless.

Lord Max and King Nicholas were not fools, however, so they had naturally seen to it that Deanna would be accompanied by more men than that. If it truly was the fate of this division to die at the hands of Slit the madman, then they would have to at least be strong enough to thoroughly bloody the lizardman's nose.

Consequently about half of the group that had once sworn loyalty to the Max's swordmaster nephew now bolstered this force in addition to a handful of Max's own warriors, all under the command of Max's trusted lieutenant, Gort.

Dawn restlessly prowled the defensible outcrop, forcibly reprimanding everyone she found not yet prepared. In all honesty, her edginess itself was unnerving to her. Dawn had never been an excitable personality; indeed, she was capable of cool, dispassionate, thoroughly rational thought. Clearly something was invading her private calm now, as she waited for the fury of Slit.

"You look restless."

Dawn started at the sound of his voice. She snapped, "You seem eager for my company. Have you gotten bored with Natasha already?"

Deanna arched a brow at her, "I'll take that to mean that it's a bad time."

Dawn flushed abruptly. It had been a long time since anybody had provoked such a reaction from her. She muttered, "No not really. What do you want?"

Deanna cleared his throat. "I would not dream of intruding where I am obviously… not wanted. I just wanted…"

There was a long awkward moment of silence between them as Dawn struggled to find something to say. She had had no cause to lash out at Deanna like that; he was her lord, and duty compelled honesty. She didn't have an answer to that question though; all she knew was that abruptly, she disliked Deanna rather strongly.

As if sensing this, Deanna started inching away from her. He opened his mouth again, and then turned, his gaze sharpening with interests. It took Dawn a moment to identify what Deanna had heard first; a running approach.

She quickly took in the sight of Gort scrambling over the rocks. Deanna said clinically, "And now they come."

---

Tao's breath was coming hard and fast. Now that the moment had come, she found an absurd tug of sentiment choking her voice. Even now, even now, she didn't want to do it. She didn't want to lose him; that was the ugly truth. Nonetheless she forced the name out of her throat, "Max."

He glanced over at her, and in one moment, the full weight of Tao's decision finally impacted her. Here stood this man who had inspired so many of the emotions that fought for dominance in her heart, this man who had, without realizing it, shown her how things could be different, this man who had shown her that things should be different, this man who had made her believe, this man she would hate unlike any other, this man she wanted so desperately, this man who had spurned her, this man whom she would condemn to die in a few short hours.

_Paezorta forgive me, but I can't let go. Part of me belongs to him. Part of me will always belong to him. _

As she looked at him, exhaustion swept through Tao. She was so tired… tired from her hatred and from her love. It was the hardest thing she had ever done for she realized now, that she loved Max as much as she hated him. But she would slaughter him for freedom; the wound wouldn't kill her even if none other had ever hurt so much.

At that, she realized that she had waited too long and Max had already drifted away from her. The anger rekindled; his arrogant disregard for those he worked with was yet another fault amongst many. Besides, hatred was easier than sorrow and she must never forget that it was _Max_ who had forced this. She had nothing to reproach herself.

Mae glanced at her, open contempt in her eyes. Tao clenched her teeth angrily. Mae had no right to judge her. But then she was Max's creature and most like as bad as he was. Malicious, self-interested bitch.

Max began then, his natural skills for oration taking over. "We're very near to our target now, so a few things must be said. Essentially, I want it understood that we're about to engage a powerful enemy on his own ground, and we're unfamiliar with it. It's more than likely that we may lose sight of each other in such a situation… So I want everyone to be certain they have a few friends to keep in sight, the entire time." He paused, clearly waiting for the gravity of the situation to sink in. "We're also stopping here," he announced. "I'd like a brief consultation, Prince Nicholas, Mae, Ian, Your Grace."

Tao's anger erupted hard at the favor he now openly showed to Anri. He was so clever, to play on her emotions like that. She had very nearly forgiven his evils!

_How strange. _

Tao could no longer remember what sheer idiocy had prompted her softening towards Max. He had slaughtered thousands in a bloody quest for power. Turning away, her shoulders rigid with outrage, her gaze fell on her now ally: Ridion the dwarf.

He met her gaze boldly; a smirk touching his lips as his hand absently stroked his beard. Her taste for these games had never been very developed, and she strode over to him. He hissed, "What're you doin'-"

"What does it matter if we're seen together? We're all supposed to have friends to keep an eye on for this battle after all."

"Ah." He sounded slightly more confident. "So that's what yer thinkin'."

By the gods above and below, how she loathed this little man! His constant smirking courtesy did nothing to inspire any confidence in her; his past record for commendable loyalty to Ian notwithstanding, she found his reticence more suspect than modest. Besides which he had some connection to Paezorta obviously and…

_No! I do not doubt Paezorta. He is a man of honor. _

Her restless anger shifted to Hanzou. It was Hanzou who had insinuated that Ridion was untrustworthy, and it was Hanzou, she recalled, whom she had blamed to convince Musashi to join them. She turned away from the dwarf, and to her surprise, there was the ninja, his eyes resting on her. As she met his gaze, she was shocked.

Was this lean, unyielding, violent man really guilty of all the things she had said he was guilty of? Just now he looked old and very tired. Heart pounding, she turned back to Ridion, "Let Musashi know. When we move out…" her stomach clenched, "We'll do it then."

"Aye," murmured the dwarf, looking well-satisfied. "It shall be as you say."

---

_Damn Max…_

That singular thought would not leave her alone. Mishalea had once, foolishly supposed, that she could banish Max and the problems he caused with ease. How wrong she had been.

Absently fingering her chalice she informed it, "He tricked me." Yes, enemies could be defeated by outright force, and often had to be. But why bother when manipulation was easier? And Max knew that well. He had counted on it. The peasant might merely be a man, but there was no denying that he had some sort of power of his own. Only a fool would underestimate it.

"Underestimates everyone," she mumbled. But Max was no match for feminine sorceries, or he would already have taken a lover. By all accounts, there were at least two of his companions, practically pining over him.

Remembering his rage when he had been her prisoner suddenly struck Mishalea as absolutely hilarious. "He was so angry that I was prepared to seduce him," she told the open air.

A wizened voice interrupted her ruminations. "Doubtless that is fascinating, but-"

Mishalea whirled about. She stared at the appearance of Rilix. She hadn't… she hadn't felt the presence of the Vandal. She hadn't felt that emanation of power. Suddenly she frowned at the chalice, held so languidly in her hand.

_Have I been drinking? _

Desperately trying to clear her head she snapped, "What do you want?"

Rilix arched a brow at her. "Merely to inform you that if you mean to do something about Gepple then you'll have to-"

"Gepple." She remembered now. Gepple was betraying her.

_I'll kill him! I'll kill him and feed his carcass to the dogs! _

She didn't have dogs, but she could get some. It was a small point. "Get back here," she ordered Rilix. "As quickly as possible. Gepple will have to be dealt with."

There was something in the Vandal's eyes… she looked almost pitying. "Of course." Rilix paused and then added, "Incidentally, my condolences, on the death of your High Commander."

Death… yes that stirred something in her memory too. Death… Of course. She had meant to kill Zeon. A dangerous proposition. Mishalea forgot about Rilix as she considered this new difficulty. She thought she knew how it could be done, but her only chance would be if Zeon didn't even suspect it was coming. To do it before he knew that the plans existed.

The only way to insure that he came where she wanted him to come without being wary was to make sure he didn't realize it was she who was in control and that meant…

_Geshp_, she concluded feeling sick. She would have to rely on the plump little devil to betray Zeon to her, rather than her to Zeon.

It would, she supposed, be best to do it now. "Rilix," she said, remembering that the Vandal was there.

"Yes?"

"Take a message to Geshp. And then get back here."

---

"Some wine, perhaps?" Solo cursed himself silently; the slight tremble in his voice betrayed his unease at this surprise.

Gwaid slid down his horse and took two heavy steps forward. "Yes. Thank you." What Solo could see of his face revealed little. The dragon warrior was even more impressive than Solo had remembered. Though Gwaid was clearly not a vain man, his unadorned, serviceable armor was, nonetheless, impressive. And while that mask might have seemed ostentatious on another man, Gwaid's burning hawk-like eyes carried the impression off easily. This one had presence.

Absently kicking Luagor, Solo offered, "Would you care to retire to my tent, Sir Gwaid? I'm sure we have many things to, ah, discuss, wouldn't you agree? If you would perhaps, give me an extra moment or so…"

"By all means." Gwaid carelessly gestured to one of Solo's men. "You there, see that my men are properly accommodated and that our horses are watered and picketed."

Solo's nostrils flared at Gwaid's peremptory orders. Before he could frame a suitable protest though, the dragon warrior had already begun off in the direction of his tent. Solo took a deep breath, and then turned to Luagor. He muttered, "Make yourself useful and find out what those upstarts are doing down there. Then… report back to me."

The spy, doubtless grateful to just be alive, stumbled to his feet and dashed off in the direction of Alshar. Solo rubbed his hands nervously together as he proceeded back to his admittedly luxurious quarters.

To his immense irritation, he found Gwaid seated in his favorite seat and helping himself to Solo's flamebrandy. Summoning the strength of will that had made him a favored general of a master as unpredictable as Warderer, he seated himself briskly considering several ways to approach the situation.

Gwaid was, he thought, a direct man who would mislike traditional courtesies and would prefer Solo to immediately come to the point. So, he resolved to draw things out as long as possible.

As he chattered away in an annoyingly vapid fashion he reflected that it was shame he had allowed the dragon warrior to precede him in getting to the tent. He could have solved this whole problem had he just had the leisure to poison Gwaid's drink. After all, his men could take a mere fifty, and with either Mishalea or Zeon dead and King Warderer about to kill the other one…

Gwaid finally grumbled, "I would suggest that you get to the task at hand."

Solo might have chosen to disregard the comment, had Gwaid's eyes not flashed warningly at him. He must never make the mistake of assuming that this man wasn't dangerous. If he so chose, he could snap Solo like a twig before the Iomite had the slightest chance of summoning the strength for a fatal spell.

"Perhaps we could start by being honest with each other." Solo leaned forward, a cold smile on his face. "Why _are_ you here?"

"For the same reasons that my man stated."

Solo made a dismissive gesture. "Surely you don't expect me to believe that's all of it? Either you have business with me, or-"

"What you believe is your own affair."

"A more courteous response might be expected, for your host."

Gwaid's eyes flashed at that, but he maintained a chilly silence. Solo hesitated now. Might Gwaid be telling the truth? Might he have no true stake in this business? _He is Mishalea's creature; he may just be trying to discover why I've been so absent from the councils, why my forces have done nothing of note. Dangerous, yes, but not devious._

As he pondered this Gwaid finally said, "I'm here to see you honor your agreement with us."

"What agreement would that be?"

"Would there be need for all this pretense, had Lynx himself come to remind you of your obligations?"

Solo, recognizing the game they were playing now, was emboldened to say, "We'll never know, now will we?"

"Enough of this." Gwaid was suddenly on his feet, his fist swinging out…

Solo stumbled as something hard smashed into his face. He realized, suddenly, that he was dangling in the air, Gwaid's fist viselike around his throat. He stared with shock into the dragon warrior's lethal eyes.

Solo never knew what Gwaid would have done next, for at that very moment, an arrow thudded through the tent and screams from outside attracted his attention. The next thing Solo knew, he was sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath and Gwaid was gone.

Taking several breaths, the Iomite forced himself to his feet, as it finally dawned on him. He was under attack. In another moment, he too dashed out of the tent. He wouldn't allow his plans to be undone now.

---

Gwaid's shoulders were set as he paced briskly forward through the conflict erupting all around him. Even now he wondered, why he had spared Solo when… well no. In truth he knew why he hadn't killed the ambitious lordling, although it hardly mattered now.

Indeed; he thought he had been pushed beyond endurance, but he had gone beyond the possibility of treason years ago. What did it all matter anymore, after all? All of the people who had ever shaped his life were gone now.

His wily grandfather whom he barely remembered, dead years ago. Ser Jiles, the knight whom Gwaid had killed himself in vengeance. And Master Pazort. Master Pazort most of all.

It was unsettling how often he remembered Pazort now, unbidden. Even now, he could summon up the vital essence that had once been his master. Even now, he remembered the rage with which he had done Pazort's bidding. Pazort had shaped Gwaid's life, brutally, coldly, and cruelly.

Gwaid had often thought that he might want to betray Pazort… but in the end he had always known that he wouldn't. Some weak, foolish part of him, must have loved Pazort as much as he had hated him, he supposed, and so he never truly would have killed him, much as he wanted to.

He blamed the Shining Force for his predicament now; Gwaid had always known that things could never be different. Not here, not in Rune. There was no other way and the gods had never given him a choice. He had done what he had to do, because it was the only path left open to him at the time.

But his absolute faith in his choices had been undermined as he watched the Shining Force in their successful resistance against the forces of darkness. Resentfully inspired by them, Gwaid had thought that he might try treason, but in the end he couldn't kill Solo either. He hadn't… he hadn't had a choice. He couldn't have had a choice…

As Gwaid's gaze bore down on the charging invaders, his thoughts were more desperate than they had been in a long time.

_Don't do this Shining Force. Don't make _me_ do this. Don't… don't convince me when it's much too late that I could have been something else. _

Gwaid continued forward, resolutely, his men rallying around him. He was ready for battle, even for death. His heart had been ashes for the last fifteen years. And all that anger he had carried around… all the anger he had just tried to release on Solo… all it had ended up in was this. All of it was so useless.

---

Dawn spun her spear around, reversed her grip on the shaft, and awkwardly thrust forward, dispatching a particularly skilled opponent. But no matter how many she killed, there were always more to come in, fresh.

Eric was laughing insanely as he fought with a reckless abandon, only to scream in fury as his cheek was slashed open. Dawn barely reacted in time, fending off the blow of a powerful looking dwarf.

_Focus on the task at hand. _

Eric was not her responsibility. The dwarf pressed his momentary advantage though, and Dawn realized with a brief flash of panic, that she had let him get in too close. Her spear wouldn't be much help…

A metal limb smashed into the dwarf's face and the foe toppled over, lifeless. Adam the robot was already moving, before Dawn could even thank him, when she felt life stealing cold.

She grunted in surprise as Adam was suddenly in front of her, taking the brunt of the freeze spell. She supposed that made sense; the cold would be slightly less dangerous to a robot after all, but with the frost in his joints now, Adam's movements were slowed to a crawl, and Knuckles the monk was tending Eric in between killing enemies with his deadly hands.

Dawn quickly snapped her attention back to the battle, but she was too late. Adam was fending off another foe, when a heavy axe crashed down onto the limb he was swinging out with deadly intent.

Dawn looked up and for the first time in her life met the eyes of Supreme General Slit. The lizardman looked horribly pleased with himself, because, as Adam was thrown off balance, the swordman he had been fighting off plunged his blade straight through the joint between the robot's head and his torso. Adam began twitching as he crashed down onto the rocks.

Coldly enraged, Dawn speared the murderous swordman through the chest. She turned then, spinning her spear as she had been taught, to get to Supreme General Slit, but she felt the cold of another freeze spell coming towards her.

Dawn's eyes snapped back towards the enemy mage, a man who was, she noted absently, dressed in much finer robes than was customary. His eyes were glowing from within his hood and, in all honesty, it was something of a chilling effect.

A ball of fire hurtled past Dawn, crashing straight into the incoming swirl of frost. Dawn didn't even need to look back to know that Natasha had just saved her life. The mage howled with frustration.

Belatedly Dawn realized that Slit was no longer menacing her side, but rather… She saw that Deanna had lept forward to engage the axe, claw, and tail.

The mage in the meantime cast another spell, this time straight at Natasha, who countered his frost with her fire. Dawn might have left it at that, when she noticed something. The enemy mage was twirling an elaborate looking staff as he cast his magic…

Dawn felt the cold grip of fear. She didn't know much about magic, but, she knew instinctively that that was not a normal staff. With it, the mage's magical resources would far outlast Natasha's. He could probably kill her, with it.

Dawn charged, towards the mage, desperate to at least even the fight. The man saw her coming, and quickly raised the staff, perhaps to cast another spell. Dawn wasn't as interested in killing the mage though, as she was in preventing his magic and so, she met the staff with her spear, connecting as powerfully as she could.

The staff was ripped from his hands and as it clattered onto the rocks, Dawn sent another blow, snapping it clean in two. The mage howled again, this time, his voice intelligible. "Infidel! Light-loving swine!"

He raised his hands to cast a spell again, this time from his natural resources, and Dawn knew that she was going to die. That was when a fireball hit the ground igniting the grass into a burning blaze. The mage screamed, hopping backwards and Dawn, without conscious volition, through herself through the flames… or would have had a clawed hand not suddenly seized her shoulder.

She looked up to see the face of Slit, manic in its hatred. He held her in place with one hand, raised the axe for the killing blow with the other, and poised his tail behind him in a look of barbaric power. It was at that moment that a sword came singing through the air behind Slit, slicing through a good couple feet of his heavy tail. The lizardman howled in anger and pain and Dawn once again tossed herself through the flames, heedless of the risks.

It wasn't only to save her life. It was because she knew now. She knew. Having seen her death coming and having seen Deanna's blade liberating her from certain death… she knew.

It wasn't that Deanna loved Natasha; it wasn't because he was cryptic and it wasn't because he was a traitor. She was envious of Deanna, envious of Natasha. The two had found something, foolish, irrational, and judgment flawing together. Dawn had never believed in the romantic notion of love, her thoughts were too rational, and her comforts were too cold for that.

But how she envied what those two had together… Was it only because some weak and foolish part of her longed for what they had? Or did she really… No. She wouldn't even let herself complete the thought for it was far too disloyal to Natasha.

A hand seized her, helping her up to her feet. As she came face to face with Deanna, she was, once more, consumed by a mild surge of dark envy.

Her voice, much cooler than her thoughts, or the rest of her, murmured to him, "That fire should hold them for a minute or so."

"Yes. Be ready for the next wave." He hesitated as though unsure if he should say anything else. Dawn was well aware that she didn't sound very grateful considering that he had saved her life, but she didn't have the strength for that now. He added, "Shame about losing Adam."

"Yes." As always, she had nothing else to say.


	42. Chapter 42: Heavy Losses

Chapter 42:

Heavy Losses

As he moved into battle, Max cast his mind back on all that he had learned from Prince Nicholas. Relations between the two of them were still… oh, a little strained. Max, though he had no desire to be petty, could not forget Nicholas's insinuation as to the honor of Guardiana.

_Even though I know he's right,_ Max thought irritably. _Even though I'm discomfited by Ward's actions too._

Mistakes were so easily made, and Max had begun to fear that he had made one in his dealings with Nicholas. For now, Nick held much more power over him, and he exerted that influence, quietly, but forcefully. Max felt a certain respect for Nick, this was true, but even now he couldn't be certain what Nicholas truly wanted… or how dangerous this king of Cypress would be in the future.

Perhaps that was a consideration best left until after the war, though. Max couldn't win this damn thing without allies and… Well it would all be an academic question if he failed today.

Max had questioned Nick closely about Solo, probing for all the weaknesses or peculiarities that he could find and then exploit. It hadn't been very promising, but persistence was an inherent quality of victory, so Max hadn't given up easily.

From what he had gathered, Solo would have been a cagey opponent no matter the circumstances. It wasn't really all that surprising, but it was a bit discouraging. After all, Solo had successfully served Warderer for years; longer than Hindel, the most favored of Iom's generals, longer even than the late and unlamented ambassador to Cypress, Woldol.

Under such insanely risky circumstances, though, Solo was likely to be far more dangerous than he was to be cagey. Still, Max believed in positive reinforcement and his plan was, he knew without boasting, a good one. The only question that remained was; would it be good enough? Perhaps. Only the battle would tell.

Still, though not encouraging, Nick's knowledge of Solo and his habits had been very useful and Max, Mae, Anri, Nick, and Ian had all hammered out a strategy between them.

Ian… Max smiled briefly. It still seemed strange, when he thought of it, that he was an uncle. Had been one for years, in fact. Kane must have been very young when he had sired his child… A brief flicker of absurd jealousy sparked within him at the thought. If only he had had such ease when it came to those feminine mysteries. And Kane had always been the educated one. Varios had been an exemplary teacher, but he had not overseen any general education for Max, and, Max supposed, he would never truly get over that, petty though it was.

Glad as Max was to know his nephew, he was even gladder to know that Ian was a swordmaster. Max had never seen one before, but he knew that they were almost exclusively a Granserian tradition and naturally he was proud of that. And a swordmaster was very hard to kill. That, above all, comforted Max after Kane's brutal murder.

As he reflected, he smiled, remembering the strategy session he had called. It had been good to feel close, like that, to Lowe and especially Mae again. He still loved both of them of course, but, now that Ian had come into his life, he relied on his nephew in a way that he would never need any of his friends again. It had been like old times there, for a little while.

_Mae…_

Max remembered, fondly, a time when that cold-faced centaur had, quite unintentionally, intimidated him a little. Though Max couldn't profess any great insight into the inner workings of her mind, the long hours he had spent working with her, after Varios's death, had overcome that initial aversion on his part. Mae had seemed so cold, so hard, so _inexorable_. Working with her, though, Max felt that only she had been close to Varios in the same way that he had… only she really understood what a difficult time, emotionally, it had been for him those first few months.

Still, Mae had taught him something. Passion was useful, in its way, but he couldn't allow anything to override his good judgment. Max had made too many mistakes already in this war; mistakes with his friends and with his enemies.

He had been trying so hard to make logical assessments… It was so hard. He hadn't been able to prevent the feelings of sentiment when Anri had criticized Ian, nor when Mae had thrown Kane in his face. And she had been… Mae had been right to do that. Even now he would only grudgingly admit that to himself, but he knew now, had even known then, that he couldn't afford to allow sentiment to sway him. Especially now.

Things were more dangerous than they had ever been, and Rune needed a victory. Max had to strike down this barricade for all the reasons he had already explained, but for Rune most of all. He couldn't allow the worst to happen; he couldn't allow the people to become normalized to Mishalea's brutality. If she swayed them to turn to her in any way… that would be the most terrible victory she could ever win, regardless of whether or not the Shining Force ultimately won the war.

_Kane, forgive me. _

And so Max coldly composed himself for battle and, with the strength of will it had taken him lie to his friends, to watch loved ones die, and to fight the most vicious battles he had ever known, banished the brother he had loved from his heart.

---

Barbara was very nearly helpless against their systematic onslaught. It had been instinct that had first saved her. She had sensed the attack just a moment before it had come and automatically turned about, awkwardly handling her halberd. It had smashed into the face of the man swinging his dagger in at her, and he had fallen to the ground his face smashed and bloody.

There were, she quickly assessed, four others, each of them armed with a long dagger. With something like a dull shock, she recognized their leader. It was Harkan. Solo's man.

Anger heated in her soul, but even so she knew that her chances for survival were very slight. Her right hand was useless to her now, and she had learned the hard way how humiliating it was to try and fight with her left hand. Whereas before she had been a great warrior, now, when using her left hand, she had to think about everything. Harkan's assassins didn't.

With a feral growl of rage she leapt forward at them. The man in the front was clearly a little inexperienced from the way he drew short, jerked back. But she was on him now, and before he could really react, she clove him in two with a spinning maneuver that had once come easily to her. Now though, she nearly lost her grip on the weapon and started to awkwardly bring it back under her control. As she did so, a dagger plunged into her side.

Her lips parted in pain as she recognized the life-stealing cold in the wound. A blade imbued with poison. For just a moment her eyes met those of her enemy's. A slight smile was etched into the soulless face of the lord of the Nar.

Barely conscious of her actions anymore, only desiring to kill Harkan, she lashed her halberd out to the side, smashing the one who had wounded her into the wall. He gave a cry as he died, tossing his dagger. It barely missed the other soldier who was coming at Barbara now, his face full of deadly intent.

Her foe hesitated for a brief moment as the dagger whizzed past him. The moment was all Barbara needed. Moving as swiftly as she could, she smashed her halberd through his waist. Before she could pull the weapon back again to where it would do her good, Harkan leapt forward himself, his blade cleverly striking her in the chest. With a grunt of surprise, she fell forward even as her weapon jerked up, striking Harkan hard.

He too, fell to the ground, still alive and wrestling feebly with her halberd, trying to get to where he could use the dagger to finish the job. Barbara was too weak, far, far too weak to resist, but she struggled anyway. Slowly it dawned on her, that Harkan was getting closer all the while, that soon he would just be able to stab her and not worry about the halberd.

_Never let go of your weapons… _

That had been her rigorous training and for another moment she obeyed it. But only for one moment. With a monumental burst of will, she released her grip on the halberd thrusting it at Harkan. She could almost feel his surprise as she lunged at the dagger, smashing him hard against the floor. Her hand grasped at the handle of his deadly weapon, but he was still fighting to retain control of the blade, just as feebly as she was. In fact, she couldn't even see the weapon anymore and would be just as likely to stab herself as she would Harkan. Truly, life could be depressing sometimes.

She jerked away from him just a little, and for a moment, he fumbled with the dagger, startled at the sudden control that he had over it. In that moment, Barbara seized the blade and twisted hard as he lunged towards her. When she felt the flow of his blood and his vitals, when she felt the sag of his body, she knew she had won.

Gasping, she lay on the floor. If this was death, she didn't mind so much. She had slain Solo's lord of the Nar.

---

Lowe panted in horrified shock. He had never admitted this to anybody, not to Max, not to Anri, and certainly not to Mae… but battles always sickened him. A man ran at him, screaming, waving a blade wildly. Lowe lunged forward, striking the man in the face.

Enraged, his opponent pulled back, jabbing his sword cautiously now. Lowe steeled himself; hopped forward and sent another swinging crack. The man's head snapped back at a crazy angle. Lowe could hear his heavy breathing.

Gods be good, this wasn't his way. He had always managed to pull his weight in the battles… but the truth was that he wasn't suited to them. He could only barely do this. He was so afraid.

Resisting the urge to slink away from battle, Lowe moved forward. And that was when he saw him. Standing in the middle of the raging conflict was the most impressive, deadly looking warrior Lowe had ever seen.

Transfixed, Lowe gazed at this awesome sight. A muscular mass of sharp and deadly metal was descending rapidly and skillfully. A dragon warrior in a mask… Without conscious volition, Lowe found himself running towards this barbaric vision of violence, barely contained.

At the last moment, this glorious foe turned. Lowe's staff clattered uselessly against the armor, and then suddenly he was dangling in the air, the warrior's fist clamped around his throat. In that moment the entire geography of the battlefield spread out before Lowe; the partially completed fort, the cliff at its back, and the utter chaos.

But it was only for a moment, before he was transfixed by the lethal, burning eyes of this impressive specimen. In a sudden panic, Lowe realized that he was about to die. And Max… A sudden soul-deep sorrow swept through him. He wasn't strong enough to let go. He loved Max.

And in that moment his past as a child in Guardiana swept through him again. He'd been so alone… so afraid and confused. And in those eerily burning eyes gazing into his face, Lowe recognized something that long experience as a healer had taught him; emotional exhaustion.

"I'm sorry," he choked, around the vise-like grip on his throat. "I am so sorry." And in that moment, he spoke to everyone he had ever known.

---

"I'm sorry," rasped the enemy healer. "I am so sorry." The words struck Gwaid as hard as any blow ever had. He could feel himself trembling.

In a moment the hot-white pain enveloped him again. The hatred. The sorrow. The agonizing sense of loss. Those simple words had undone him. He knew that he had already lost, but he fought on anyway. What else could he do?

He could not… he could not… "_No._" He heard his voice break and he didn't care. "No! I couldn't have… I couldn't have been anything else. I had to! By all the gods above and below..." Breathing heavily, he lost all sense of the battle raging around him, all sense of everything. Except for the healer in his grip.

He could see his pain and sorrow reciprocated in this man's eyes. "_Pazort_," he gasped, fully hating him at this moment. "Pazort you bastard! I'm dying because of what you did to me!"

Dimly he heard a cry and he turned to face it, as time went slowly. In this moment, he was weak, he was harmless. As he turned he felt a sharp piercing feeling in his chest and he saw, disinterestedly, a spear protruding from his chest.

He also saw a centaur charging at him with a steady, guarded face and light brown hair. In a moment, the centaur had run full into him and Gwaid stumbled freely backwards, dropping the healer, crushing his arms about his assailant, and, in another moment, the two went over the edge of the cliff.

Even as the centaur struggled against his grip, even as the pain gripped his chest, even as the air rushed past him, Gwaid didn't care. All he knew was that he was grateful to the nameless healer above and that he was ready to die. His heart had been ashes for the last fifteen years.

---

"No," screamed Max. "Ken!" Sobbing furiously, the leader of the Shining Force charged forward, heedless of sword, axe, spear, arrow, or spell.

"Max!" shouted Mae. "Max! You idiot! _Wait!_" A hot panic unlike any she had ever known engulfed Mae. Max was terrible to behold, cutting down enemies indiscriminately in his grief. The dragon warrior had been excellent; he had been restoring confidence to the enemy forces. He had also been about to kill Lowe. Ken had chosen to sacrifice himself to kill such a dangerous foe, but now… "Max," she howled again. "Stop!"

She too moved forward, desperate to get to his side before he was engulfed by too many enemies. Even so she paused long enough to take stock of their forces. Anri was dueling an enemy mage and Domingo was darting about. Her eye fell on the golden-haired prince of Cypress.

"Nick," she shouted. "Keep them together!"

Even in the midst of heated conflict, his features were perfectly composed. Grave. Nick nodded with a sort of courtesy to her, even as he turned to lop off the head of a particularly persistent opponent.

Without another thought, Mae turned off galloping in the direction of Max. She couldn't let him do this. She needed him too much. And Rune needed him. Max barely grasped the way in which he was needed; he was not loved with the same religious fervor as so many kings had been, but in a deep, enduring way. But most of all, she had to save him for herself.

As she ran, dispatching any foe that approached too closely, she absently noted that there was disturbance at the grounds of the fortress. Solo's workers must be rebelling.

A harsh voice screamed, "Kill him! Kill him you dolts!"

Mae's attention snapped to the source of this voice. He was an older man with a greasy, obsequious air, dressed in blue robes. From the look of him, this could only be Solo himself.

He was restoring order to his men, fighting shrewdly. And there… was Max. Hemmed in by the men Solo commanded. She barely acknowledged Lowe's presence, as panic retook her. She charged forward, angling her spear… In another moment, she thrust it, a primal scream ripping from her throat.

The long shaft of the weapon stuck from Solo's arm where a dark stain pooled against his robes. The Iomite stared at her, aghast. "You… you stabbed me!" His face twisted in hatred. "Die!" he spat.

Sheer jagged electricity sprang into life and the next thing Mae knew, she was spinning to the ground, gasping in pain. As she fell face-down in the dirt, she thought that she saw a sword swinging towards Solo. And as her face thudded against the hard earth, she thought she heard a pain-enraged shriek.

---

All Luagor could think of, was escape. It was the only thing left for him, now that battle raged. Besides, Lord Solo looked to be in bad shape and would doubtless lose his head before long. Luagor had no desire to join him.

He glanced nervously back as he slunk forward. Barely breathing with relief, he turned forward, only to come face to face with Ara, the lover of Dustan.

Her hand shot out, knocking him to the ground. A slow smile spread across her lips as she dangled a chain in front of his terrified gaze. "Well, well. If it isn't Luagor, the spy captain."

---

"Ridion," growled Tao, "Do you even have the slightest idea _where_ we're supposed to be going?"

The dwarf stopped short, genuinely offended. "Course I do! I got me 'structions! Ole Ridion'd never lead yer wrong."

Tao gritted her teeth, but choked back the temptation to respond scathingly. _Of course you would, if you saw bloody profit in it._ She had been forced to the regretful conclusion that she simply detested Ridion. Of course, that wasn't terribly surprising. The dwarf simply wasn't likable. Ian himself didn't seem to like Ridion; so much as he did rely on him. And what a mistake the swordmaster was making there…

Musashi abruptly stiffened. "What was that?"

Tao's short temper just snapped. She couldn't take it anymore. Guilt was gnawing at her, even though she knew that was ridiculous. "Gods, Musashi! Stop flinching at every little shadow that comes our-"

A whizzing sound cut her off as Musashi moved swiftly to the side, just dodging an arrow. "What?" croaked Tao.

In a moment the woods were alive with the ambushers. Tao's eyes were immediately drawn to the one who looked to be leading them. An archer with a cold face… indeed, she immediately sensed something cold and resistant about him. Something threatening that she had never sensed before.

She could see by the look in his eyes, that he, too was immediately drawn to her, by something vague… something sensory. Something that was about so much more than petty human motivations. Something dark and elemental. Something that was so necessary, so twisted, so…

Tao never even realized that the battle raging around her had ever existed. All she knew was this cold man that she was locked onto.

"Blaze," she whispered. In a moment she felt her fires struggling against this man, struggling against that cold, dark, resistant quality that he possessed. Struggling, straining, sweating…

But, now she felt a subtle exertion. He was pushing something cold, inimical into her inner being. "Blaze," she shrieked, more firmly, and the fires pushed against his… whatever it was.

And the two strained in intimate silence, her gaze transfixed by his, her heart terrified by this alien feeling of his, this _cold_…

"Cold," murmured Tao. It was a mistake. In a moment, the strength of his side increased twice over, her flames practically vanquished. Stumbling to her knees, Tao whimpered with the cold. "Bl-bl…" she couldn't say it.

Desperately, she begged for the gift of fire to answer her. It must… It was her birthright. _Please… please! Max…_ A tiny, puny, sputtering flame answered her. "Paezorta," she gasped. The answering fire was stronger.

The archer opposite her blurted, "What? What did you sa- NO!" Tao had sensed that brief moment of distraction, and the flames claimed him. Screaming and howling in pain, the archer flung himself loosely about, gasping for it to end. Tears running down his face, he screamed, "Mercy! Not fire, no-"

A greasy, black smoke poured off of him as his voice deteriorated. Melted. In another moment, the man fell to the ground, a smoldering ruin.

In that same moment, Tao became aware of her surroundings again, aware of Musashi's slim blade being retracted from the chest of some foe or other.

The samurai bowed to her stiffly, "Thank you madam. That was masterful. However, I fear that we have been betrayed. One of them said something about slow torture."

"Oh, shut up, ye buffoon," snapped Ridion. "Obvious, ain't it? The bloody lady o' darkness never meant to deal honest with us, or at least somebody in that damn castle don't like us. And there was that grey 'un that got away."

"What?" asked Tao wearily. "Got away?"

"One did," confirmed Musashi. "It is as Ridion says. He looked like a very… grey man."

"A grey man," repeated Tao. Grimacing, she looked at the lifeless bodies of the ambushers. "Well," she said at last, "I think this is all an academic question now. We've been betrayed by somebody, certainly. And I have no intention of dying by slow torture at Mishalea's leisure. I suggest…" her mouth twisted with displeasure. "I suggest that we rejoin our… compatriots."

Ridion smirked at her. "Ye took the words right out o' me mouth, great lady."

Tao rubbed her head, ignoring him. She was too tired to puzzle this out now. If Mishalea had done this, things were the worst they could be. If somebody else had authorized this action against them though… well that would be another matter entirely.

---

Solo's breath came harsh and raggedly. He had tried to restore order, but then that centaur had wounded him and Max and his pet healer had come in hard and now…

Solo was a realistic man. There was no way he could win now. His slaves were in revolt. He had, unknowingly, sent Harkan away when he needed the lord of the Nar most and the order he had nearly established over his men was lost.

No, Solo was more than aware that death was very close to him. It was inevitable for a man in military service anyway, but Solo's thoughts had already turned to his last chance for immortality of a kind. If he could take something of equal value away from his enemies… To kill Max himself? Perhaps that was too much to hope for, but if he could end the line of Guardiana…

Solo struggled to his feet, keeping his target in sight. It didn't matter if they killed him now, just so long as he sold his life dearly. Taking a deep breath, he summoned the last of his powers and shrieked, "BOLT!"

The lightening tore from him with a force that he had never before felt, searing him through to his soul, nearly driving him to his knees. Panting in exhilaration, he saw as the bolt streamed towards Anri of Guardiana, his gaze held her in hopefulness.

And then, as though in answer to his worst fears some flying thing flew into the stream of his power, diverting it. "No," said Solo stupidly, even as the bizarre looking thing fell to the ground, smoking.

Hard, cruel metal slammed into his already open wound, opening it further. With a scream of pain, Solo fell down to his knees and turned to see a dwarf wrenching his axe out of Solo's side. His vision was blurry. "Nicholas…" he rasped. Had the king of Cypress sent this dwarf to strike vengeance into Iom? "Nicholas," he insisted.

The dwarf paused long enough to answer him. "No. Ruce, they call me." And his axe came swinging up at Solo's head. For a moment there was tearing pain… and then nothing.

---

Everything hurt, she decided. An exhausted voice called her back into consciousness. "Mae."

Squinting her eyes open, she was greeted by Lowe's weary, grey face. He looked sad. "Gods be thanked," gasped the healer, falling back in relief.

"What… happened?" Mae's voice was weak. "I don't… remember."

With a trace of the old humor in his voice he replied, "That's hardly surprising. You took a high level bolt spell right in the chest, you know."

"Battle? Who's…" she couldn't finish the question, but, she saw from the look in Lowe's eyes that he understood.

"We won, but…" he looked away and said softly, "Ken. Mayhaps Domingo."

Mae blinked, startled by the sorrow piercing her heart. Neither had ever been her friends after all… A sly, treacherous voice reminded her that she had never let anybody be her friend. Abruptly she realized that Lowe was speaking to her and turned her attention back the healer.

He truly looked terrible. And there was a haunted look in his eyes. His hand gripped her shoulder tightly. "Mae… do you love Max?"

A weary lassitude built up in her exhausted body. "I… n…" Oh what was the good of denying it? "Yes," she admitted. "Sometimes."

Lowe's smile was broken by something bitter. "I always thought so…" He lapsed into silence, and Mae let him have it. What was there to say, after all? The two of them would never be close, even in moments like this. Lowe finally said, "Come on. Max wants everybody back on their feet here. I'll help you."

Grunting slightly, as her bore a portion of her weight, the mismatched pair made their way out.

Max was speaking to an unfamiliar looking, older man with long white hair and a leathery face. "Very well Master Ferik." He turned away from the man, his shoulders rigid.

Lowe whispered to her, "Ferik's something of a leader amongst Solo's former slaves. He… led an uprising during the attack and wants to join our forces. Max's been arguing with him about that. Looks like he lost it though."

"Arguing about it? Has he lost all his wits?"

"Yes." Max's voice was sarcastic. "Yes, Mae. I've lost all of my wits."

"Lord Max," came the cool voice of Prince Nicholas. "With all due respect, the Lady Mae, acting in the capacity of your second in-command, was well advised to question any curious policy on your part. Particularly in the view of this response of yours; Master Ferik seems well able to keep calm in a crisis and to fight in battle. We would be fools to refuse his aid."

Max's gaze was cold. "Thank you, Nicholas. I fear I might have forgotten that had you not reminded me." His face softened as he turned back to Mae. "I… are you alright?" She silently nodded assent. Max muttered, "You may… you may well have saved my life. Thank you."

She forced the words out of her throat. "It was my duty, Lord Max."

"Duty…" His manner became distant once more. "Lowe, Domingo's the only serious one?"

"Yes." The monosyllable fell like silence. After what seemed to be a long time Lowe continued, "He took the entirety of the highest level bolt spell I have ever seen. It's not surprising. In fact… I'm rather startled that he's still alive at all."

"Mayhaps," Max suggested, "he considers our cause worth living for. Certainly he thought it was worth dying for."

A funny expression crossed Lowe's face. "I'm not so certain that he wants to live. I've said it before… but I think he's in love. And he did…" Lowe shifted uncomfortably and coughed. "Well he did take a spell that was being aimed for… Her Grace."

Max started. "Hellsteeth, Lowe! Do you know what you're suggesting?"

"It's only a theory. There's no need to get offensive."

"Hmm, well. Yes. Be that as it may." Max stroked his jaw, looking concerned. "Prepare everyone for a march. Devise some way to keep Domingo comfortable on it."

Mae said in disbelief, "A march? What can we hope to accomplish that we haven't already-"

"Striking down Solo was merely the first step of many. We strike due south immediately for the camp of General Cameela."

After a long pause Mae said. "I see. You… planned this from the beginning." She gave him a hard look. "And you lied to us."

"I kept part of the plan back, yes," admitted Max. The defensiveness in his tone was surprising. But in another moment, he was speaking in the imperious voice of Max the lord, a voice that came to him with increasing ease. "We won't get anywhere unless we destroy the entire barricade in one blow. Before they realize what we're doing. You didn't need to know that part of the plan. Nobody else did, it was too risky. And we might be in time to save some of Deanna's group. We head due south within the hour."

---

Slit glared at his cravenly advisors through puffy eyes. "Ve have vaited too long already. Ve vill strike sese scum visin se hour." His tone brooked no argument. It galled him, however, to realize that these men, his own generals, thought that they could dictate his own policy.

Only Kre'sar stood behind his decision and Kre'sar was a problem in and of himself. Slit had no intention of relying on Kre'sar too much; neither did he have any intention of permitting the Shining Force to get away with this impudence.

Slit knew that his hour in the sun had come at last. He would crush this group of the Shining Force, and then march personally on Max's weakened camp. He knew this would alarm General Cameela. Probably, it would be enough to cause her to come south herself, to meet with him. With Max's head in hand, Slit could ambush the general and then present both her head and Max's own head to Lady Mishalea herself.

It was a glorious future and a fitting climax to Slit's already extraordinary life. He wouldn't lose any of it to Max, to General Cameela, not even to Lord Eiku. And certainly he had no intention of allowing his advisors to rob him of this chance either.

In truth, however, it went deeper with this group of the Shining Force, trapped in the eastern outcrop. They had dared to challenge Slit's own authority and he would answer them ruthlessly. For that alone, he would have taken great pleasure in the slaughter. But it went even deeper than that.

He felt gingerly at his wounded tail. A lizardman's tail was a weapon and source of status. Slit had been proud of his own tail, and the leader of his enemies had wounded his pride. That was unforgivable. Slit would never rest until his pride was avenged.

---

Mishalea waited with Rilix at her side feeling increasingly nervous. In the end the scheme she had hit upon had been fairly simple; Geshp was supposed to convince Zeon to come along by any means necessary. Hopefully he would occasion as little suspicion in Zeon as possible, but Zeon was an old hand at this game. He would have been suspicious regardless, and he would be hard to kill. Mishalea had always known that.

In theory, of course, it wasn't even possible to kill him. In theory. What she was about to attempt was something entirely new to her. Mishalea liked certainty in all her plans as far as she could, and was understandably perturbed at this, the greatest of risks. But the rewards would be equally great… And in truth it was a relief.

_I should have done this, years ago. _

Now that she was finally committed to this audacious scheme, her head felt much clearer. Nervously she unclasped the Necklace of Darkness from her slender throat and she slid the centerpiece gem from the chain. Studying the flawless facets of the Jewel of Evil, she once again marveled at the genius of her master. He had disguised the gem, hiding it with the one most qualified to keep it from Zeon. But nothing could keep Zeon from slowly reabsorbing this power… and unless it was destroyed he would…

She felt it then. That sharp shock to the senses, that tingling of power that her own power could always recognize. And if Zeon was close enough that she could feel him so strongly, he could certainly sense her presence too.

Bracing herself mentally for the dangerous assault, Mishalea turned all her power on the gem in her hand, flooding its facets with her power, drowning its stresses in her sorcery. A moment later she felt Rilix turning her own power into the gem. The Vandal did it well, as though the two of them had been working in tandem for years.

She could feel Zeon moving more quickly now as he sensed the unbridled sorcery and then… and then the Jewel of Evil shattered and Zeon turned the corner, facing her.

---

For a moment, Zeon had felt a swell of energy building up within him. Energy he had not known for ages, but it lasted only a moment. In the next moment this raw sense of power broke and Zeon felt his own strength dissipating.

At this same moment he came face to face with Mishalea. He could see by the triumphant expression on her face that this was her dance, not his. "No," he said helplessly, aware that he was of less power than she at this moment. "Geshp," he continued as understanding of the treason filled him.

He couldn't even find rage within himself anymore, though. Only fear and shame dominated the whole of his being now. Fear at the unknown abyss he was walking towards, shame at the thought of losing his ancient war at long last. At least Lucifer hadn't won the victory over him though…

Weak and harmless, he didn't even try to summon the energy to deflect the deadly magical force that came at him from that evil bitch Mishalea, from her smirking Vandal compatriot, not even from the lying evil that was Geshp.

As he fell forward, he vaguely noticed shattered fragments of a gem on the ground. That was how they had got to him, he supposed. Fear choked his soul. He didn't want to die…

"Mishalea," he muttered against the rough ground across his cheek. "Mishalea," he begged. Maybe she heard him. Maybe she understood. He hoped so. It was his right to die with the proper prayers. He had always been faithful to the ancient power of darkness. It was his right to be honored for this alone.

He tried to speak again, but he couldn't make another sound. Reality was fast flickering around him. And as he felt consciousness slipping away from him, he felt clarity at the last moment of existence.

None of the old quarrels mattered anymore. Only the first one. Only the first one had ever mattered.

_And I lift my glass to you again, Lucifer, fucking bastard though you are. I lift my glass to you, my only memory. _

And in the next moment… gone. Everything was gone.


	43. Chapter 43: Hatred is an Art

Chapter 43:

Hatred is an Art

Warderer slowed his horse to a walk as he crested the next hill. The King of Iom breathed heavily. He could feel it _now_, that burning pain gripping his innards. There was no doubt of it. He was very sick.

The debilitating sensation of illness, however, did not prevent Warderer from feeling other things as well. Barbara had never had much of a gift for the ancient powers of darkness, but there had been a very slight link that Warderer could sense in her, and that link had suddenly dissipated. Barbara must be dead. As well as Solo.

A bitter laugh burst through his lips entirely without his permission. He had invested so much effort and now Barbara and Solo both had the singular bad taste to join Gordon. Dead… all dead now except for Hindel.

That might have mattered to him once, but, in the course of his ride, Warderer had made up his mind. He had been a fool to challenge Mishalea on her own terms. That old bitch was too canny to be defeated by the same means that she used every day. The ancient powers of darkness. Warderer had, for years now, tried to expand his power by the swelling of an army, the conquering of territories, the ruthless seizure of ancient artifacts. And for what? He couldn't defeat Mishalea's power. He could latch on to it, undermine it, debilitate her control, but he couldn't take her power away from her.

He never had been able to do that and Iom had not helped him as he had once hoped. And now his own power was fading. Spinning out of his control. Dying. He didn't have the time to wait any longer. Mishalea needed to die, and anyone who could not help him to achieve this aim was useless and unnecessary. So, Warderer felt very little but sardonic humor at the deaths of Barbara and Solo.

Now, Mishalea would be cautiously worried about what he would do next. Well, let her be worried. He had always tried to keep her as off-balance as possible. And, even better, the impossible had been achieved. He no longer sensed Zeon's presence in the world. That meant that Mishalea must have vanquished the self-styled king of the devils. She must be supremely weakened from this… and Warderer was now ready for the most violent, powerful, vengeful fight of his life. It all boiled down to this. Vengeance against Mishalea was at hand and it would be sweet.

There were still factors that he was uncertain of, outcomes that he couldn't control. The most pressing question, of course, was Hindel. What was he to do with his remaining general? But if that was uncertain, at least Warderer was finally, fully confident of his path. Sergei (though he had no doubt that the name had been a fabrication on the part of the old man) had shown him the way. The power… the possibilities were there, in the palm of his hand. All he had to do was close his fist.

A sudden violent burning in his stomach reminded him that he had best set his plan into motion soon if he hoped to enjoy the fruits of it. "Mayhaps," he wheezed, "I should concentrate of on not vomiting up all my guts, before I do anything else."

With the monumental will that had made him one of the most feared, and certainly the most unpredictable, sorcerers to ever have lived, Warderer forced himself to remain steady in his saddle. He took a deep breath, mitigating the pain as best as possible, and then set out, his hands eager on the reigns.

---

Dawn had acquired a new respect for Gort. The elderly dwarf had, when things seemed to be at their bleakest, managed to turn back the brunt of the enemy assault, thus winning them all another, brief, respite. He had taken heavy wounds for his trouble though, and that bothered Dawn more than she chose to say. She considered herself to be an excellent warrior, and Deanna, when it came to combat, was made of true steel. She was less certain about any number of the others, and if Gort was too wounded to fight any longer…

Knuckles the monk was tending to the dwarf even now, though, so her fears were quite baseless. As for the rest of it… well they remained hard-pressed. Slit had thrown all of his forces square at them twice now, and, since then, had engaged in a number of lower scale skirmishes. Graham had fallen in the last of these, and Dawn was duly sorry. The archer knight had been a staunch ally and a dutiful warrior. At least he had died honorably. The only other casualty so far had been one of Ian's, a bird warrior known as Julia. She had taken a very bad, messy wound, and had been a long time dying. Deanna had decreed that, as much healing as she would need, the healing resources of the group should not be squandered. Shortly after, he had made the mercy killing himself.

In some obscure way that Dawn could not define, that had been hard to see. Dawn was not made for thoughts of philosophy, however, so she dismissed the subject from her mind, turning back to her post. It was her watch, to give warning when Slit came again.

A soft voice said, "Dawn?"

Without bothering to turn her head, Dawn said, "You shouldn't be here. You should be within the safer confines of this place, conserving your strength. You've now dueled the same wizard twice."

Natasha gave vent to a soft puff of laughter, "Yes. He's very strong. In a way… it's hard to see how strong he is. A wizard with such a gift…. And yet he gave it to the darkness. To hurting people. Enemy spell-casters in this war have always frightened me. It wasn't the same during the Civil War."

"Really? I would have thought… Woldol hurt you as much as anyone else. Your family, wasn't it?"

"My whole village. Razed. But Woldol… I never met the man, Dawn. He was terrifying, but I didn't hate the spell-casters amongst his ranks. Many of them thought they were serving their country as best they could… And of our own countrymen, what were they to do, when their lords called? I never hated or feared them particularly. Woldol was different. Some of the tales Yeesha told of the time when she was enslaved by him…" Natasha shuddered.

"Woldol was… well-known for his hedonism." It was a fairly mild comment, compared to the atrocities it spoke for. In truth, Woldol had been an utterly unstable, garish, and despotic ruler. He hadn't been much of a military leader either; on the field, Dawn was confident that he would have made many mistakes. He had been fortunate to have fine tactical minds surrounding him… Bazoo had been a fine strategist and Gepple had once been a soldier. And of course, Dantom, who had betrayed Nicholas I as had so many others.

Woldol's rise to power had been meteoric in its speed once he conspired to crown Edmond. His fall had also been meteoric in speed after he had failed to insure the death of Prince Nicholas.

The saddest part of it all was that Dawn was certain that the whole sorry episode would only be remembered as a small time of unrest. Cypress had been in an uneasy state of affairs since the death of Silus the Sinister (though he had named himself Silus the Magnificent). He had been a terrible king, lecherous, vain, cruel… and on his deathbed he had legitimized all of his bastards. Cypress still felt the weight of that, even now, nearly one hundred years later, even though King Gadis had ended the line of the pretenders after they rose against him a second time.

"Did you want something?" Dawn's tone was sharper than she had meant it to be.

"I… no…. Oh, I'm sorry Dawn. This is just… this is difficult for me," she concluded lamely.

"I don't see why. You have Deanna, don't you?"

Natasha stared at her. "Honestly Dawn, you're starting to sound just like Prince Nick."

At that, Dawn turned to face her friend, very slowly. "What?"

"I know he's had a hard life, and I know what a good king he'll be. I know what he's done for us, but he's so… cold."

"Cold?" The notion bothered Dawn for some reason that she could not define. Was that truly how she seemed to others? She was logical of certainty, but… And even if she did seem cold, why should it matter? She did her duty, didn't she? Didn't she?

For a moment, Dawn was so preoccupied that she missed the change of expression on Natasha's face. She spun around, silently berating herself for taking her eyes off of the surrounding terrain, and, acting on instinct, thrust her spear outward. She was rewarded by a man screaming and angling away, clutching his wounded arm.

There was a twang of arrows, and Dawn threw herself flat, glancing backwards. Natasha hadn't been so lucky; she had taken at least two arrows. For one moment the crazy thought flitted through Dawn's mind that she could leave Natasha to die… Somehow prove that her love of Deanna was invalid? "Help," screamed Dawn, forcibly turning away from the treacherous thought. "Attack! To arms!"

---

High Commander Eiku fumed in silent anger. When Tarbeck alone had returned from the little task that Eiku had set Cellion—Tarbeck of all people-! Mishalea had been incensed to learn of the attack on the negotiators. Of course, Eiku had anticipated that, but it would have been _so _much easier to explain their violent deaths and report what had been learned nonetheless than it was to explain the failed attack. By all the gods above and below, nineteen men slaughtered, and Cellion amongst them!

Eiku had humbly accepted the blame for the incident, though he had been sure that Mishalea knew that it was really Lynx who had authorized the attack, and she had been free about assigning it to him. Currently he was stewing outside her shrine, as though he were some lowly servant awaiting his master's pleasure.

Still, what was done was done, so Eiku had done the next best thing and blamed Tarbeck for the incident as well. It was patently untrue, but he had spun further fabrications suggesting that Lynx and Tarbeck had collaborated on many treasons. Strangely enough, the Chief Gaoler hadn't protested, but rather, he seemed to understand. He had gone to his execution smiling faintly and had not once contradicted Eiku. Of course that one had always been a bit odd…

Sighing, Eiku massaged his aching temples. In a way, he admitted privately, it was almost a relief. Cellion had been a good soldier and had shown a flair for tasks that would have repelled most other men. He would not be easy to replace, but Eiku could not help feeling some measure of relief that Cellion, and now Tarbeck, had both taken many of his own secrets to their graves. Only Slit was left now, and even he didn't know everything.

That, of course, had been the real reason for ordering the attack in the first place. There were the other benefits to be considered, naturally, and Cellion had named them. Eiku's real concern, however, had been that contacting anyone who had been with the Shining Force for any good length of time could be irreparably dangerous. After all, Tao had been there long enough, she doubtless knew who had originally set Ian loose on the countryside and Eiku had no desire for the council to hear about that.

At that moment, the door slid open, and Paezorta ushered Eiku in. Mishalea glanced in his direction, coldly. He would most like be in disfavor for some time now. Not allowing that to faze him he strode forward and seated himself in the High Commander's chair. The seat Lynx had always taken.

Turning his gaze to study the others, Eiku's eyes slowly narrowed. Magus was there, in the Sub-Commander's seat. Mishalea had evidently gone ahead and given him the promotion. That rankled, but with Cellion slain, Eiku didn't have anyone else to suggest. Certainly not Slit; useful though he was, he was still a lizardman. But there were others there as well, the Vandal and that smirking devil, Geshp. And even…

Eiku broke the long silence, "You speak for your master, Lord Oddeye?"

"The self-styled king of the devils lies slain." Mishalea's voice held a trace of satisfaction. "Advisor Geshp and Lord Oddeye have both graciously consented to be made members of our small council."

"Not so small," quipped Geshp.

Eiku wasn't paying attention. Geshp joining the council was one thing, but Oddeye? Even if Zeon was dead… Oddeye wouldn't have simply acquiesced. There had to be something else going on.

_Too many new players… _

"And what of Iom?" asked Eiku, choosing to keep his speculations to himself. "Are they… unrepresented here?"

"Iom remains an ally," Mishalea replied curtly. "But Warderer has no voice in our private counsels." She glared around the table for a moment and then said briskly, "To business then. As regards Iom…" She turned to gaze at Rilix.

"Ah, yes," purred the Vandal. "Her power was so slight that I confess I didn't miss its presence… but some of our men have discovered the General Barbara dead. Assassinated it would seem, by other Iomites." Rilix smirked for a moment and then continued. "There is more serious news, however. I remain unable to trace Warderer and… I do sense the absence of Solo's power. He must be fallen."

"Grave tidings," murmured Mishalea.

Magus volunteered, "You think the barricade is in danger?"

Eiku snorted derisively. Trust Magus to pick out the obvious. In the meantime Geshp was asserting, "The barricade must be protected at all costs. If there is any danger it might fall… I propose that we gather more troops together and send them out under a more formidable general's leadership." He paused briefly to scratch his chin. "Lord Oddeye, say."

Paezorta frowned. "Certainly the barricade must needs be protected, but even if we sent out more men? Could they get there in time? If not, then we may be overstraining our resources in sending out another full army. Mayhaps we should reinforce the barricade first and watch. General Cameela is able, certainly."

Oddeye spoke for the first time. "Indeed she is." There was contempt in the gaze he gave Geshp. Contempt and loathing.

"No good," growled Eiku. "We have nothing to do but wait. It would strain our forces to assemble another army and we don't even know what's happening out there. Even if Solo's dead, it may have been a power struggle. And if so, whoever takes over isn't going to risk destroying all of their forces by defying Warderer. Even if we sent more troops to the front, if things are already at a dire point, they won't get there in time. We should conserve what we have rather than throwing it away on futile gestures."

His abruptly delivered advice seemed to startle people. Geshp objected, "Protecting the barricade must needs be our paramount concern, if it falls-"

"If it's going to fall it will fall before we can get reinforcements there. Tell me, Advisor, how much good will it do us if all we do is futilely send forces that will be less strongly protected than those we have already placed in the field?"

Geshp's jowls quivered as he squinted at Eiku. Finally he said in the acid tones of an enemy, "I say that we must strike at once."

Mishalea looked pensive. "Paezorta?"

The High Captain was a long time in answering, his troubled gaze sliding first to Eiku and then to Geshp. "As your chief military executive, I cannot condone the passive resistance that the High Commander urges. And yet… a strike on the scale that Advisor Geshp proposes…"

"This is a political matter as much a military one," Geshp muttered, but Mishalea paid him no heed.

"But," prodded Mishalea, "you also urge for action?"

"Aye, milady. Action is of necessity at this point."

Mishalea's eyes slid past Magus, ignoring him as usual. "Oddeye?"

The cool, measured response came almost immediately, "I should say that your High Commander summed things up very well. He seems to have a realistic grasp on the situation."

Geshp bristled angrily at the insult, but Mishalea merely held up a slim hand before turning to the last of her advisors. "And you?"

"I would also urge caution," rasped Rilix.

"There you have it Geshp. You and Paezorta stand alone in this matter. Caution seems to me the wisest course of the moment. Eiku, I want you to see to bolstering our defenses here, and, marshaling a force that can, if necessary, march to the aid of the barricade. Magus… I'll want to see you in a while. It may be that even a wine-sodden oaf such as yourself knows something of import after all the time you spent in Rune. Geshp, Oddeye, I'll want to speak to you later as well." She dismissed them all with a curt nod, before turning to Rilix. "And, we are agreed on this course?"

"I'll find out what Warderer's up to as best I can," she promised.

"Very well. Oh, Paezorta, now that I think on it, you might have General Hindel brought to me. It would be well to see what he may know."

"As you say milady," Paezorta responded stiffly.

Eiku rose to his feet abruptly, nodding at all of them as he made his way out. Mishalea had given him a task; he had no need to ask their leave of him. He had, he thought, handled this first council meeting rather well. He seemed to have made an enemy of Geshp, but that was as it was. Eiku had survived Lynx's unrelenting hatred for years; Geshp did not concern him overmuch.

In the meantime, Lynx's final ploy had failed, and though Cellion was dead, he had successfully kept Mishalea from knowing that he had ordered Tao and her friends slain. Additionally he had just managed to isolate Cameela, so hopefully the Shining Force would kill her for him and keep Mishalea from ever knowing whatever Cameela did know.

At this stage of affairs, the most important thing was to develop more strategies against the Shining Force. As long as he kept his wits about him though, there would be no difficulty too great to cope with. Eiku had already risen high in his life, after all, now all he needed to do was to support Mishalea loyally and effectively and his destiny would be assured.

---

Betrayal had not come easily to Hindel. Loyalty had been a basic part of his nature, and Warderer had done everything for Hindel. He had risen Hindel high, honored him, protected him… The Black Knight silenced the gnawing regrets as best he could. Not that he could, very well.

Not only was this a betrayal of King Warderer on a personal level, but, of course, he had always done his best for Iom. Hindel considered himself a patriot, yet here he was, slinking off to commit treason, leaving Barbara dead behind him. He had meant to speak to her before running off like this and he had found her murdered. Consequently there would be chaos in the ranks of Iom without a leader…

But Hindel was resolved. There were other debts to pay. And he had paid, and paid, and paid.

---

The wizard was very fast, but not quite fast enough. Not quite. Gepple eyed the man he had once named a colleague with distrust, keeping his sword directed at the wizard's chest. Ordinarily such a mundane weapon wouldn't be much of a threat to an undead, but then, normally his sword wouldn't be smeared with those magically imbued oils either. And Bazoo knew it. Gepple could see that much in his eyes.

The undead wizard slowly rose to his feet. "Gepple. This is a pleasant surprise." He eyed the sword, his head bobbing nervously. "Should I take this to mean that you've missed me?"

Gepple ignored that coldly. He had no doubt that the wizard would play for as much time as possible before making his inevitable attempt at freedom. Still… killing him outright would be messy. Doubtless Bazoo had made some sort of cursory precautions. "You've made bad choices, wizard."

"Oh please, you wound me. You went against Iom as well."

"But I did not alienate Zeon."

"Ah." A slow smile crept across the bald man's unnaturally preserved skin. "What a fool you are. Zeon's dead."

Gepple choked back the momentary impulse to question his foe, but Bazoo had seen that brief moment of distraction. Moving more rapidly than Gepple would have supposed the pampered fool to be capable of; Bazoo lurched forward, nearly past Gepple's reach.

Gepple spun about as quick as he could make it, his sword shearing through the air. Bazoo gave a hoarse cry, flinging himself forward, only just missing the deadly cut. The wizard flung up his hands kicking outward. Gepple stumbled backwards, making another cut. He missed this strike as well, off-balance as he was and his long cloak swept across Bazoo's table, knocking a candle to the ground.

Even as the heat crept up Gepple's back, the dry wooden tower took eagerly to flames.

_Fire_.

It was the most frightening thing Gepple had ever witnessed. Especially frightening given the fact that undead were hardly invulnerable to flames. Bazoo screamed again, and turned, dashing down the stairs. Gepple lurched to his feet, but it was too late. The fire had already gotten into him through his cloak.

With a cry of despair, Gepple ran, only for his foot to plunge through a weakened floorboard. Sobbing, he tried to wrench the limb loose. It would not come. And the fire swept in.

---

"Another battle," Cameela repeated. "Slit has engaged the whole of his forces in _another_ battle?" Her courier nodded his head wearily, wisely keeping his mouth shut. Cameela said disgustedly, "Very well then. I wash my hands of this farce. If Slit wishes to kill himself he may do so with no help from me."

As the courier sped away, Cameela settled back down, cradling her head in her hands. It was a disappointment, certainly. She had had high hopes for that summit meeting, even after realizing how arrogant Slit was. If he wouldn't respond to logic, surely he would be susceptible to some flattery, or perhaps allow his pride to be manipulated.

The real problem was what to _do_ about him. Cameela didn't want to kill him; not when such a measure would undoubtedly spark the end of the alliance between King Zeon and Mishalea. Nonetheless, Slit was causing more problems than the Shining Force itself and unless somebody curbed him soon…

Sighing, Cameela slowly lifted her chain and ball, feeling the weight of the weapon. The power of what it could do. This inaction grated on her and fed her doubts regardless of how she struggled to silence them. Nor had there been any word from Oddeye for a long time now. Cameela was reasonably certain that he wasn't dead. If Oddeye had fallen, King Zeon would have let her know. Anyway, the very thought of it was nonsense. But she needed to _do_ something. Perhaps she might approach the Iomite lord, Solo… But no, that would never suffice. Slit had already bought the man and Cameela would tolerate no alliance with Bazoo. She had only contempt for the undead.

With an angry toss of her head, the general rose to her feet. "Bring me Red Baron," she commanded loudly. The summons failed to bring her guard running to her. "What is this insolence," she murmured, stalking out of the tent.

The moment she did so, she understood why her summons had failed to rouse anybody. The camp was awash with battle and flame. Her shocked mind only barely took in the implications; _how had the Shining Force come at her from the north_?

Had there been a spell on her tent? Certainly, she should have heard something of this magnitude. With practiced steps, Cameela came forward, joining her milling soldiers, bolstering their confidence. Max must be a fool to give her battle! Or desperate, mayhaps. That would not be so good. None fought so savagely as the desperate man.

Cameela's eyes watered, and her first strike was off. She cursed the smoke savagely. Some pet mage of Max's had doubtless began the fire to confuse her men's senses. This time Cameela crouched low, lashing out catching a nondescript foe hard in the face.

The successful kill restored her senses. Where was Max? If she could bring him down, the battle might be won quickly. And there was Red Baron, turning gracefully as he cut a foe from hip to breastbone. Cameela might have turned away then, but even as she began to do so, she saw a flash of green catching Red Baron's blade in midair.

_Max._

Cameela lunged forward only to cry out as a light kick landed on the back of her neck. She rolled away, recovering quickly, summing up her opponent. This man was older with well-grayed hair and a hard face. He was dressed in black silks, much as the assassins who had once set upon her. There was sardonic humor gleaming in his eyes.

"You are very lucky," he informed her. A blade suddenly appeared in his hand which had been empty before then. "You are also clumsy, for a general."

"You are slow, for an assassin," she retorted. The answering smile was cold, and the duel began in earnest. The man darted forward bringing his blade up from below. Cameela lunged just out of reach, cracking her chain towards him. With a smile, the man shifted his shoulders, slightly to the right of the blow. Cameela cried out in pain as his blade bit at her shoulder.

_He's faster than me_.

That was no matter, she had killed quick men before, but this one was good. Damn good. Cameela knew that her truest chance could only be if she got far enough away to get a good swing in… Taking up a defensive posture, she invited him in, offering openings that she knew to avoid. The man was fast enough to get a slash here or there, but she guided him back carefully.

Abruptly the man lunged for her legs and Cameela jumped back again. This time was a splashing sound as her feet landed in the waters of the lake, an icy chill. The man was slightly off balance and Cameela started to move in for the kill eagerly. Then she cried out in shock.

Tentacles were growing out of the water… of pure water? Squeezing at her calves, cruelly hard, excruciatingly chill… Stumbling in pain, she saw the assassin throw himself towards her. Fighting the tentacles that were trying to submerge her entirely she jerked back, just missing his cut and seized the man, trying to pull him into the lake with her.

At that moment she heard an indistinct cry, "Hanzou," and saw the brightness of flames hissing in at the water, melding the two elements together in a dance of destruction. Even as her foe's blow took her, even as she fell to the ground, darkness enveloping her senses, Cameela thought that it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

---

Ian was fighting a press of men when he saw it. His uncle stumbled back hard, only just turning a deadly cut back. The general in the red armor was already on him and… "Uncle," screamed Ian, making a quick kill before dashing forward, ignoring the cut on his forearm.

Max was flat on his back now, the man in red armor sweeping his blade down for the killing stroke. "No," howled Ian, leaping forward, extending his blade as far as it could go… His panic made him clumsy and, to his horror, his sword slid harmlessly across the man's red breastplate. As Ian was regaining his balance, his enemy's sword suddenly jerked up, catching his own blade.

Being a swordmaster had prepared Ian for virtually every type of combat that he knew of, but even being a swordmaster had not prepared him for the sort of demonic strength that this red-armored killer possessed.

Ian's blade was very nearly ripped from his hands, and he lost his balance again, falling to the ground. Before Ian could even draw a pained breath from his fall, he saw his uncle's sword whistle past him and slam hard onto the enemy's foot. With a grunt of pain, the man lurched slightly and Ian seized the leg hard, bringing the enemy tumbling to the ground.

The man never even lost his grip on the sword, and immediately struggled towards Ian, trying to open his throat. Ian started to reach for his opponent's sword, hoping to wrest it from his grasp, only to stop as a soul-deep chill ran through his hand. His pause was less than a second long however, and his hand shot out again, clawing at the man's face.

As his fingers found some sort of leverage to pry out, the man jerked out of reach, as though scalded by hot water. Uncle Max was on his knees, making a new slash towards the man whose hand was rising towards his face. The man lashed out, his foot knocking Uncle Max off balance again. With a grunt, Max fell back to the ground.

Ian seized his sword and thrust it upward desperately, this time catching it on the mask at the man's chin. In the next moment, Ian _thought_ he saw a lance smash into the red armor causing the man to fall a full step backward. Ian's sword, caught, wrenched the mask out, and in another moment, the man fell on top of Ian, no longer moving.

_Did I kill him?_

"Help," he rasped.

"Can't," he heard Max mutter back. "Get up. This fool's… legs too heavy. What… happened to you?"

"Mountain… hit my head."

"Me too," Max agreed ruefully.

---

The news came just when Slit was finally confident that he would be able to break past those insolent wretch's defenses and slaughter them all. He swung around, gaping angrily at the courier.

"Se General Cameela is under a full-scale assault? From se _norse?_" His momentary dismay was quickly replaced with an eager thought about how tidy it would be if the Shining Force just killed the bitch for him. "So vat? She is se great varleader, she can deal vis it! And vat of Lord Solo?"

"But sir," the courier said, looking all the more frightened, "you don't understand. Lord Solo is slain or captured! His base has been taken!"

"Vat?" exploded Slit. Just as swiftly as his jubilation had overtaken him, fear returned. Solo already slain and Cameela under full assault. But how had the Shining Force done it? And now… they would hope he wouldn't hear, hope he would press his attack so that their other force could come in and smash him against the rocks!

His face paling with fear and anger he croaked, "A… retreat. Call a full retreat." The few men standing around him looked at him blankly. "Call a retreat," screamed the lizardman.

"But, uh, sir," ventured one of the general's. "We've nearly-"

"_I said call a fucking retreat_!" He took a deep breath. "All se vay! To Skull Castle!"

The general gasped, "What? No! We can't do that, we-"

Slit wasted no time, but merely swung his tail up, breaking the man's neck at once. Wounded though it was, it was still heavy enough to be a weapon and it would be best if his subordinates remembered that. "Anyvon who questions orders vill die as a traitor," he promised them all. "Now call se retreat!"

As his men scurried about to obey his orders, the lizardman allowed himself a moment of rage. His great chance at glory would be ruined, but at least his army wouldn't be shattered. Still, the cold rage filled him. They had played him. Slit would not be quick to forget that.


	44. Chapter 44: Affairs of Defeat

Chapter 44:

Affairs of Defeat

Perturbed, Oddeye set the pen down for the umpteenth time. The rock on which his life had been built was gone. Zeon was dead. Dead at the hands of Geshp, he was certain. He had failed…. And failed in so many ways. Not only in the death of his king, but when he had saved Gort…

_Failed. _

Love was a very curious thing, and so hard to define. Had he loved his king? Oddeye supposed that he must have; certainly he could no longer recall his youth as Oddler before Zeon had taken him. Love was also foolish and of little practical use, if he was to judge by the maudlin ponderings that it pressed upon him now.

Still, much though he willed it, his thoughts would not leave him to rest. Zeon was dead and… nothing was changed. Everything was changed. Or was it? After all, if Zeon was fallen, didn't he owe his allegiance to the one who had proved to be even stronger than the king of the devils? Didn't he? And yet, it rankled to sit there nodding his head like a tame little councilor at Mishalea's behest. Nor could he profess much warmth for any of his new colleagues.

Magus was a halfwit and a fool and Geshp a turncloak. The Vandal was no better than Geshp and Eiku, though shrewd enough, fairly oozed of duplicity. Certainly, the High Commander was the one who bothered Oddeye the most. He could see traces of himself in the man. Gods be dammed, he could see the man's whole existence too clearly. The mingled pride and arrogance which grew out of bitterness too deep to be bourn just as much as they were caused by the bitterness… Eiku was clever, able, and thoroughly unscrupulous. Oddeye saw all of that clear enough; what troubled him was that he could see himself too clearly in the other man.

_But I am not like that. _

Practically, the High Commander might well be Oddeye's staunchest ally. Now that Geshp had betrayed Zeon he would, hereafter, look for a chance to kill Oddeye. Oddeye knew better than anyone alive how difficult Geshp would be to kill, and it would be very convenient if somebody _else_ killed the scheming turncloak… And Geshp and Eiku seemed to have already become enemies. Conversely, even if Eiku didn't kill Geshp for him, Geshp's energy would be wasted trying to fend off two foes at once and perhaps with his focus scattered… It would be worth the trying certainly.

And then… then there was Cameela. Already an uncharacteristic twinge of guilt ate at him. He had used the general.

_She would have forgiven me anything in our joint task… but I lied to her about Zalbard. I let her think Geshp killed him. And this. Can she forgive me for sitting on Mishalea's council?_

He certainly couldn't answer that niggling question. He wasn't even certain if could forgive himself for doing it, so why should Cameela? And why did he even care? He had served with Cameela for years of course, and over the time of their association he had acquired a certain respect for her as a colleague. None of the others could claim to have done that to him.

Oddeye sat there, endlessly reviewing the facts. Zeon was gone and Oddeye had no choice. He would have to serve Mishalea as she had proven to be the stronger. What other course was open to him now? And yet… and yet…

Sitting there, he picked up the pen and wrote the letter to Cameela, choosing each word with care. With a sigh, Oddeye realized that he was very old.

---

Slowly and groggily, the world took form before her. Cameela blinked owlishly, stretching against the unfamiliar sheets. It was not the first time in her life that she had awoken to unfamiliar circumstances, and it probably wouldn't be the last. The question was, had her forces won the battle or… A voice cut in upon her ruminations, ending all doubts.

"You are my enemy. So tell me, why should I have spared your life?"

Cameela's eyes flashed to the speaker. Tall, evidently wounded, with short reddish hair and a guarded face. This had to be Max himself. An absurd fear made her chest tight, as she gazed at this impressive man. Max had more presence than most of the lordlings Cameela had ever known. Swallowing, she guessed, "You mean to keep me to hostage?"

"That," said Max coolly, "might have been acceptable once. As it is, things have changed considerably. High Commander Lynx is fallen and Zeon is dead. Your colleagues Geshp and Oddeye now sit Mishalea's council."

"What?" Her momentary shock fading she said derisively, "That is a pathetic lie."

Max shrugged. "It's no matter to me what you believe. I have men in high places. Men who have a way of learning things even from within Skull Castle. No, I have only one interest in sparing your life, General Cameela." He leant forward as he spoke, wincing slightly. Her gaze flashed to his legs. Wounded, mayhaps, in the battle?

"If you have defeated me, then I deserve the courtesy awarded to an honorable enemy. I did not fight you dishonorably, Max, and must be afforded some respect due to this."

He seemed amused. "Courtesies are the first things to go in a war, my lady, has no one taught you? But very well, I'll answer you some questions, should you have them."

"How did you manage to come upon me so suddenly? From the north? And my tent…"

"Yes, I ordered some cursory precautions to be taken. Your tent was spelled to keep you out of the battle. Although it didn't keep you out for very long. We came at you from taking Alshar. Solo is dead."

Cameela was silent for a moment, digesting this. Evidently what he said was true, though she didn't understand how he had done it. Finally she asked, "And me. Why choose to spare me, my lord? Why not take Solo, or Slit…?"

Max laughed with audible scorn. "Slit is an idiot and a brute. I wouldn't waste my time on the likes of him. But you, my lady… Oddeye always did say that you were honorable, so you were the lo-"

"Oddeye? But what are y…" She stopped suddenly, remembering that day he had saved her from the assassins. He had been gone for a long time… Trying to defeat Geshp, he had said! But what if…

Max was peering at her. "Surely you knew? Unless he kept that to himself? Yes, Oddeye masqueraded as one of us for a brief time. He told us much of you, Geshp… and he helped us plan the attack on Zalbard. He killed Zalbard personally."

"No." Oddeye hadn't… "No," she repeated more emphatically.

Max chuckled. "Well I can see he kept you out of the loop. A power struggle, I assumed. But he did lay the groundwork for this moment. In truth, General Cameela, your life serves as a symbolic gesture. The Shining Force is not a band of brutal murderers fighting for power. Indeed, I'm according you the status of a valiant, defeated enemy, as a message to the world. And to Mishalea. Your wounds will be tended to, and we may have some more questions for you. But rest assured; you will not be harmed as long as you give us no further resistance."

He rose, slightly unsteadily. Cameela blurted out, "And what of Red Baron?"

Max paused, nearly out of the tent. "Ah. Yes. Red Baron you call him, but his name is Lemon. Did you know that?" He didn't wait for an answer, and indeed, Cameela had no answer to offer him. "In that, I am disappointed in you, general. It almost makes me want to kill you. After what Oddeye said of you, I would have expected you to be made of stronger mettle." And with that, he was gone.

Cameela leant back upon the pillows, her head swimming. It all fit together too well to be a shrewd fabrication. Oddeye had lied to her. Used her. What truly galled her, however, was that she had let him do so. She remembered that day now, that day that Zalbard had played his gamble.

Only Oddeye had taken it calmly… because he had been prepared to kill Zalbard. Shaking with anger, Cameela buried herself in the pillows. _He lied to me_. Her eyes were surprisingly wet. Oh, Oddeye had been clever. Dammed clever. She couldn't deny that. He had played her very well indeed and everything he had said to her had been true as far as it went. He hadn't even agreed with her that Geshp had killed Zalbard… he just hadn't contradicted it.

What truly mattered in the end though was that Oddeye had broken the trust she had put in him. He had manipulated her all along, and that she could not forgive. She had started to rely on Oddeye, but she would not… Yet the thought of just turning away from him angered her too. She could not say why.

And the worst blow of all was that Zeon was gone. King Zeon was fallen. Slain. Finished. Just when she had reaffirmed her faith in following him, he was gone… And what was she now, but disgraced and defeated? Who was she? She was no one and nothing. Zeon had given her, her chance, but Zeon was dead. And Cameela had nothing. It was enough to make her weep… and though it warred with her instincts, she gave vent to it, weeping openly for the death of the life she had once valued.

A rough voice said, "My pardons." She looked up in suspicious surprise. It was a big, rugged looking man. His lips smiled when his eyes did not. "I do a bit of healing," he admitted frankly. "Lord Max sent me to look after you. And also… I have a way of getting information. Lord Max instructed me to ask if you have any message you would like to be sent back to your colleagues." He held out a piece of paper and a charcoal stick.

That particular question bothered Cameela immensely. She had nothing to say to the others, but there was always Oddeye. That was what this was really about. Her and Oddeye. It always had been. And yet, what could she say to him? That she wasn't coming back? That she had discovered his lies? They had nothing to say, nothing… and yet…

Feeling raw in her throat, she seized the proffered paper and quickly scrawled on it, _'I think that I loved you_.' Feeling her eyes misting again, she folded the paper, handed it back to the grave-faced healer and turned on her side. She was no one and nothing.

---

Max cradled his head wearily as he refused. "No. I will not condone the execution of a broken man. You should know better than to ask that of me."

Nicholas replied, "It may well be the tidiest solution, my lord. After the crimes that he committed, none would fault you if you chose to take his head in justice. The atrocities…"

"Were committed under duress! Lemon was being controlled, Nick. He didn't have a bloody choice about his actions. And you've seen his pitiable state. Gods, are you made of stone?"

"I have seen his state. Which is one of the reasons I urge execution. He's broken past the point of usefulness. It would serve us best to execute him, and it would be a mercy to the man himself."

Max jutted his jaw. "No. I've already determined that we'll send him back to Grans Island. It will be politically expedient anyway. If Granseal triumphs against Galam, then they'll doubtless appreciate having Lemon turned over to their justice. And if Galam prevails, they'll thank us for returning their greatest hero to them, unmolested."

Nicholas made a brief gesture with his hands, but, thankfully, didn't press the point. "In that case, might I enquire as to the disposition of Guardiana as regards the proposal that I set before you…?"

"In these troubled times," Max responded instantly, "Her Grace is being very careful about such matters. It will most like be some time before we are prepared to answer you with any certainty."

"Very well."

Max massaged his temples, wishing he could escape from his ally's dry, cold, expressionless tones. His hearty dislike for Nicholas had quite resurfaced. There had been a brief time where the young king had seemed almost human… but somewhere along the way he had recovered his self-confidence and his damnable arrogance. Max hated him for that.

Max turned to Mae. "Summon Deanna, if you would be so good. You might inquire after my nephew as well. We might as well convene as council now. Anyone who desires to be present may be, of course."

Mae nodded and silently padded off. Max looked after her for a moment. Sometimes he didn't know who frustrated him more when it came to Mae and Nick, but, due to his longer, if not necessarily more intimate, acquaintance with Mae, he fancied himself adept at reading her expressionless-ness. In that quiet acquiescence, however, there was rather a lot of something he had never been able to define in her… Nicholas's precise voice called him back to the present.

"I congratulate you, my lord. Your plan worked, better than even you must have hoped. Deanna's group was practically unscathed in comparison to the massacre you predicted."

"A lot," he admitted, "depended on our speed in vanquishing Solo and then Cameela. I owe you my thanks for helping me plan such an effective attack on the former. And there was also an element of uncertainty in Slit. Once he learned of the situation, it was impossible to know what he might have done. Happily, he made the most convenient choice for us." He added, as an afterthought, "There was the raider that was helping Solo as well. That was a stroke of luck. That and the sudden fall of the undead encampment in the west that Bleu reported."

"As you say. And indeed, vanquishing both the General Cameela and Red Baron must have pleased you fiercely, my lord."

"We were lucky," replied Max, thinking back to the battle. The mage, Hawel, had shown commendable loyalty, first in starting the fires that had added so greatly to the disorientation of the enemy, and secondly in saving Hanzou's life and breaking the water magic. Max had never encountered such personally, but the young mage had sworn that that was what it had been.

_So Mishalea has a water sorcerer. Mayhaps it's that reptile._

Certainly, if it came to guessing, that would be the most likely candidate. Recalling their brief association, Max couldn't think of anything else that the reptile had shown itself to be particularly adept at. Its trickery in interrogation had been clever yes, but it had wasted that chance with an inane, throw-away question. No, decidedly, the reptile would only continue to serve Mishalea if it had something valuable to offer. Water magic, for example.

At the moment, however, that was one of Max's most distant concerns. Having shattered the barricade and having destroyed two armies, Max's first concern must be to following up by penning the enemy in at Skull Castle. Mishalea's resources were formidable, but Max had little doubt that even she must be feeling the strain of lost armies now. Unfortunately, he lacked the main strength to encircle Skull Castle… He would have to gamble that Luke and Hans would arrive with all the power of Rune behind them faster than Mishalea could recover. It was a pity that Slit had gotten away, but Max had never entertained any serious hope of being able to win three consecutive victories against vastly stronger opponents. As it was, Deanna had bled Slit's army fiercely.

Additionally, though he hadn't lied to Cameela, he knew that he could use her as a bargaining chip if necessary, and was prepared to do so. Hopefully he could give his forces enough of a respite to get them battle-ready again while he waited for Luke… It was a gamble, but that was the only way to win wars. And at the moment, matters of policy must take over.

"Uncle," Ian said lightly. "I heard that you were convening a meeting. To discuss _important_ decisions no doubt. Well?"

"We'll give it a minute or so," he responded. Within short order, his advisors were assembled. Deanna had come as he requested, Anri as well as Hanzou, Lowe, and, surprisingly, Musashi. Mae stood off to herself.

Max took a deep breath. "Well. We all seem to be gathered, so perhaps we should begin. There are a few questions to consider. We'll start," he jerked his head towards Deanna, "with you. How many were lost?"

"A total of four. Your friend Adam was one." He glanced at Ian. "Julia too. And Sylvia. I'm sorry. As it was, Slit nearly had our defenses shattered in his last attack, but your successful battle against General Cameela seemed to have unnerved him and he retreated in short order." He added, "Injuries all around. Natasha and Gort were pretty badly wounded, but they're being tended to now."

"Very good," said Max, pleased. As a leader that is… as a man though… With a silent plea for forgiveness, he pushed Adam out of his heart. He could not afford sentiment, not when it jeopardized everything he had ever worked for. "Splendid. General Cameela seems suitably docile and I have discovered that it is extremely unlikely that she ever knew much of Oddeye's dealings with us. That may be just as well. She'll most like be easier to deal with. I've also decided that we'll send Lemon back to Grans. Regardless of who wins the conflict there, it will be an appreciated gesture."

Anri said icily, "Ward shall be delighted. He always said that political expedience was important."

Max winced. He and Anri had been on rocky footing despite his apology to her. Well, if she had decided to stop being both his friend and his queen that was her choice. Certainly he wasn't going to go back to begging. There would be no more kneeling and no more laughing.

"I," he responded with chilly courtesy, "am trying to fight a war as effectively as possible. I will not behead Lemon for being controlled."

"No, you'll only hand him over to people who will and count yourself well out of it."

Max flushed. Anri's complaint did have a certain justice to it… At that moment, Nicholas came to his rescue. "Be all of this as it may, we have more concrete concerns to be considering. The barricade is broken, but unless we follow up swiftly and ruthlessly our enemies will doubtless try something else. I had thought that perhaps with Master Ferik's men, we could expand our control over this territory…"

Ian said slowly, "I shouldn't think that would be very effective. Ferik fought well at Alshar, ground he knew intimately, but against Cameela, his men did the brunt of the dying. They're too undisciplined to hold much territory outside of Alshar, which they could, perhaps, hold defensively."

Max nodded, pleased that Ian had grasped the point. "I have reached the self-same conclusion. I am afraid we must wait for Luke and Rune if we are to have the men we need."

Mae arched a brow. "At this point, can we even be certain that they are coming? We have had no word of Luke for a long time."

"But we do know that Lynx is fallen," objected Lowe. "That means he can't have taken Pao."

"That does not necessitate Luke's life, or indeed the lives of most of his host. They could be fallen just as much as Lynx is."

"They could be," Max broke in, "but if they were, Ward would certainly have learned of it and he would certainly have told us."_ Untrustworthy, yes, but much interested in his own skin, Lord Ward. _"For the moment, we must wait. Idle speculation will accrue us no benefits whatsoever." He paused, studying their faces, judging them all. Anri was clearly unhappy with him, but that had less to do with policy… he hoped. Mae, he saw, was conceding the point well enough. She had always been quick. After she had recovered from the surprise of his deception on the matter of Cameela, she had supported him whole-heartedly.

Ian was nodding and Lowe also agreed with him. Nicholas was as inscrutable as ever, and Hanzou's gaze was well guarded. Musashi looked intensely interested. Interested and concerned. And Deanna… well the day he learned to read Deanna would be the day the universe ended.

Musashi spoke into the silence. "What of Earnest's group? Mayhaps we could take this time to try to contact them?"

Mae said stonily, "It would be a waste of time. We've not once heard from Earnest since we sent him out. Nor should we send out anyone else and sit around wondering how long we should wait to hear from them. No, Earnest, Vankar and Kokichi may well be added to our list of casualties at this point."

That was hard, but no less than the truth. And Max was glad that somebody else had brought up that point. He didn't know how many deaths he was strong enough to bear. Ah, but death must be a great relief… Life was such an incredible burden. Making a small noise, he began, "I think, then, that it is obvious that our truest option-"

Pelle came running up at a sharp gallop. Though unremarkable, the mercenary had most like saved both Max and Ian. He had been the one to take advantage of Lemon's distraction in the battle. At the moment, he looked concerned. "My lord," he bellowed. "My lord, I've detected movement just on the outskirts of the camp."

Max rose slowly, trying to mask the pain in his legs. His eye swiftly roved over the group. It was a goodly force, he decided. Unsheathing the Chaos Breaker he murmured, "In that case, we are obliged to investigate these findings."

---

Domingo squinted at the unpleasantly bright light. He hadn't responded to anyone since awaking… how long had it been now? A few minutes? An hour? Days? Years, even? An eternity? It could be any of those for all he could judge.

He remembered the exultation he had felt in those moments before Solo's charged spell struck. To finally make something of his shameful passion for Anri… To buy her life with his own. What had he thought it would prove? How much he loved her? Or how much he hated loving her? And even now, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to live. Death would be so much better than the pain.

"Gods," he croaked. "Look at what the world has done to me. Look at what love has _made_ me."

Gort's rough accents intruded upon him then. "Thaht is the essence o' et." There was some sort of understanding in the old warrior's eyes. He whispered, "Ah loved hem ahnd Ah hated hem. Ahnd Ah kihlled hem."

For the first time, Domingo met Gort's confidence unflinching. He looked at the frailness concealed beneath the dwarf's rough manner and he saw it in conjunction to the ruin of his own life. Gort had done as he had to and Domingo could understand just what it had cost him. "I'm sorry."

Domingo was sorry for Gort, to be certain, but ultimately he knew the paralyzing answer to his own dilemma. He loved Anri, yet he was afraid. Always afraid.

_I'm going to get right up out of this bed and tell her. _

After a moment, the magical jellyfish sighed and lay back down.

---

The outskirts were the sweetest sight Kokichi had ever seen. Relief welled up in Kokichi's chest at the sight; finally he and Krin were safe. He was so very elated that, for a moment, he even forgot that he had meant to forget Vankar and Earnest. He wouldn't share in their fate; the camp was just before him!

He panted, "This would be it, little lady. We've made it." Krin, though hardly what the old man would term an expressive child, actually looked pleased. Doubtless the prospect of a proper rest appealed to her. Even as all of this was flashing through his mind, Kokichi hesitated.

It would be hard, in a way, to be back. None of the others had known what he and… what he and Krin had had to go through to get here. They would have witnessed their own horrors no doubt; that was the way of war. And yet…

A smooth voice rang out from behind him, "Why, Sergei! Fancy meeting you here."

Cold ran down the old man's back. He spun around, gripping his short lance tightly. There he was, sure enough, still mounted on that horse of his. Kokichi's mouth went dry. "N…Nicholas," he managed. "What are… you, ah, here I mean…" This was too much a coincidence to be mere happenstance and that bitter, mocking private self-conversation that he had overhead came back to Kokichi immediately.

_Pawns and pieces he spoke of. And he always struck me as a sorcerer…_

"Should I take your stunned face to mean that you're overjoyed to see me again?" The man pouted. "Truth to tell, you wound me, Sergei. To find that you've been lying to me all this time has really quite upset me."

"I," he began, when the sounds of running feet stayed his voice.

In a moment there was press of people and a voice bellowed, "Kokichi!" The old man turned, feeling a numb sort of relief at the sight of Lord Max. In the next moment however he heard a sharp intake of breath and another man forced himself forward. It took Kokichi a few seconds to recognize Prince Nicholas.

The young prince's blade was drawn and his tones were ice. "_Warderer_."

Kokichi could hear the wind whistling through his ears. He turned, slowly staring at 'Nicholas.' The king of Iom? He could almost see it in the anguished lines of the man's face, but… Warderer? He made a small noise of disbelief.

The man held up a quick hand. "Stay your blades." Max gave the man a cold look, but Warderer continued cheerfully, "If I admit that my name is Warderer, would you still love me?"

Lord Max's eyes were wary; the Chaos Breaker was in his hand, in plain sight. "I assume that you wouldn't come this close to us unless you had something to say. If so, best say it."

The king of Iom smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry at how much disturbance this little visit of mine has occasioned. I'd have written, but I wasn't sure how many of you would be illiterate."

"And we'd be more polite," retorted Anri, "but you're crazy."

"Is that anyway to try and foster respect between us? Especially after the trouble I've taken coming here to talk to you, face to face."

Prince Nick's voice broke in. "You're here to die, you mean."

Warderer shrugged his voice sharp with disdain. "You can certainly try."

Max took several deep breaths. "Very well. What do you want, Warderer?" He was clearly resisting the urge to question him more sharply. He added, "And dammit, nobody do anything until he's answered."

The mad king shrugged again. "I am with you, not them." Silence greeted his deadpan announcement. Warderer smiled again, knowingly this time. "Ah, they're thinking, what kind of a trick is this? How quickly and easily can we kill this self-styled king for his crimes against Rune?" Warderer laughed; a surprisingly contemptuous sound. "Well bugger that and bugger you and bugger my crimes against Rune. I'm here with an offer of service; you'd be fools to refuse me."

Kokichi could see the flash of uncertainty in Lord Max's eyes, but if Max was uncertain, Prince Nick was not. "We must take his head now. If it please your lordship, I'll do the deed myself."

Warderer smiled coldly. "I wouldn't recommend that."

"Oh for the love of gods, shut up." Kokichi wasn't quite certain whether Max was snapping at Warderer or Nicholas. Looking extremely disconsolate, Lord Max stroked his chin, as though trying to come up with something to say. Finally he said, cautiously, "And… on what terms would this alliance be?"

"NO!" Musashi and Prince Nick had shouted the monosyllable at the same time. Nick's face was drawn. "You cannot mean to bargain with this creature. He will plant a knife in your back."

"Well," began Max, but Nick bulled straight through him.

"I warn you, should you do this then Cypress will be obliged to-"

"You don't even hold Cypress," Warderer pointed out. "I think your opinion will matter very little to Cyprian policy."

Nick's face darkened, but Musashi had already jumped into the breach. "Please, my lord. We cannot… to accept any such offer it would be… dishonorable."

Max opened his mouth and then closed it. Hanzou said quietly, "I don't see why. It could well save lives in the final assault."

Warderer smirked. "I seem to have caused a great deal of disturbance. How delightful." He leaned forward, his tone becoming more serious. "Believe what you wish, Lord Max, but I tell you this; I have no greater wish than to kill Mishalea, and anything that does not actively help more towards this aim is utterly worthless." He paused, but there was silence this time. Warderer continued then, in a tone of complete earnestness. "Hear me then. I have committed crimes to your way of thinking, I admit that freely. But every act of slaughter, every seizure of wealth and power, every decision that I have ever made has been for one purpose; to defeat Mishalea. I had hoped that by committing to a truce, briefly, I might have been able to kill her more easily, but that chance is lost now. She's killed Zeon… yes, I see, you're not surprised. You knew? Well it surprised me."

Nick growled savagely, "You are my enemy."

Warderer shrugged. "War makes many strange bedfellows. I can be no stranger than most, mayhaps more handsome, but that's your gain not your loss. If it's Cypress that you want… very well. As an ally, I gift it to you."

"It is not yours to gift. It is mine. By rights."

Warderer barked laughter. "Rights? What _rights_ were at play when your uncle tried to murder and depose you? What rights were at play to allow for the rise of Zeon, of Mishalea? What rights were at play at every instance of injustice in our sorry little world? I may have done things without rights, but I'm no worse than any of you. And you may as well admit it; you need a sorcerer of my strength for the final assault. Bend the knee my lords and you won't find me ungrateful. Oh, I won't usurp your command. Just help me kill Mishalea and I will do whatsoever you ask of me."

"What," said Max, "can you possibly have to offer that justifies taking such a risk?" When Warderer did not respond, Max pressed, "How can we trust you? How can you possibly expect us to trust you?"

"Hmm… perhaps if I swore? Let all of my power desert me forever, let all the harsh justice in the world come upon me if I play you false. I need you to kill Mishalea, and that has always been my top priority. You may not see it this way, but you need me too. Who else is going to battle her sorcerous defenses for you?"

Max regarded him for a long tense moment. Then, forcing a smile that looked more akin to a grimace, he said, "Why don't you… come with us… so that we may… discuss this further?"

Warderer smiled cheerfully. "Why, I thought you'd never ask, my lord. I should be most pleased to accept your kind offer. What's for dinner, incidentally?"

---

Nick stared at Lord Max, aghast. The man had ensconced himself in a private meeting with Warderer and now he was calling for this absurd alliance to be made a reality.

Setting his jaw firmly, Nick spat, "I will not condone this."

Max looked exhausted. "Dammit, Nicholas. You know that there was a grain of truth in everything that he had to say to us. Who else would we use, pray, for the final assault?"

"The only grain here is one of madness. The man is a butcher, a criminal, a usurper. He is the soul of my enemy; I am sworn to do justice to Cypress. That includes defeating my foes."

"Ah, I see." Max raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying that if a foe honorably bent the knee to you, you would be obliged to take off his head, for justice."

"_That is not the same_!"

"Why, Nicholas, you surprise me. That almost sounded like heat."

Nick knew that he was on rotten ice now, if Max's temper was so foul. One false step and he would plunge through waters chill enough to kill him. Nonetheless, he pressed, recklessly, "Well I can't say that I'm surprised. You'd make bargains with Ward, so why not another conniving-"

Max exploded almost at once. "Fuck that and fuck you too, Nicholas! I've had my bloody fill of this. Do you think it's easy, leading a war for justice when every single thing I have to do contradicts justice? Do you have any, fucking idea?" Nick was near simmering with anger himself, but he could wait for Max to finish. Unlike the other, he knew how to be dispassionate. Max pointed an angry finger, "Since the first day you got to this camp, you have been actively disagreeing with me on every matter of policy, actively sabotaging every decision that I have made."

"I supported you on the barricade."

"Only after I went to my knees before you. Is that what you want Nick? Is that really all that you care about? Are you only willing to accept anybody else as long as they stoke your bloody arrogance?"

"You are raving."

Max took a deep breath, his face calming somewhat. He lurched to his feet, his tone still thick with rage. "My pardons." He swept from the tent, his shoulders rigid. Nick leant back in his chair, unutterably weary.

Mayhaps Lord Max was right. Certainly, for the greater good, distasteful tasks sometimes had to be seen to. But this… worse than distasteful. He couldn't pardon Warderer, and nobody had the right to ask that of him. Unless in the long run it was for the greater good…

By all the gods above and below, he couldn't even believe he was considering it!

_Uncle Edmond soured me on treason. And my father trained me well. _

Nick cradled his aching head trying hard to focus. If only he could focus… He wanted counsel, but who to send for? Mayfair? No. He could not send for Mayfair now. It would make him appear weak, to her. He could not allow her to think him weak. He was her rightful king, aye, and he would be a strong one.

Although, now that he chanced to think on it, perhaps this business with Warderer would be what he needed in that regard. Certainly, she could not deny that with matters so dangerous, he needed a wife and heir as soon as possible. And, in such a case, wouldn't she be apt to do her duty?

Except, blast it all, Mayfair was the least of his concerns at the moment! Why this pointless fixation there? Yes, pragmatically speaking the question of the continuation of the royal line was a pressing matter at the moment, but nonetheless, surrounded as Nick was by pressing concerns, even that could only be given so much attention. Mayfair was meaningless… His hands trembled. He had to _focus_.

As he sat there, Nick realized, bleakly that he already knew the answer to Warderer. Gods help him; he would make common cause with that madman because war called for expedience. His throat raw, Nick laughed in bitter admonition.

_People are such fools_, he thought blackly. _If Warderer had named himself an angel, they would have seen wings. _


	45. Chapter 45: Securing Power

Chapter 45:

Securing Power

The talk had spread through all of Cypress, and it seemed that Dava had been the last to hear any of it. She hurried herself as swiftly as possible, though with age, her limbs had stiffened considerably. Panting for breath, she hobbled out into the courtyard. Her eyes immediately fell upon her reluctant ally. Gathering a quick breath of air, she cried, "My lord! My lord!"

Uglu heard her, and turned. For all his talk of not being a king, he certainly looked like one, donned in highly polished greaves, plates, boots, gauntlets, and now just fastening a thick gorget about his throat. The armor bore no decoration, but he had fastened a long white cloak about his shoulders and his uncut hair splashed red down on it. No, despite the lack of decoration, no one would take him for anything less than what he was; the modest warrior's garb lent him a certain air of undeniable grandeur.

He inclined his head gracefully. "Ah, Lady Dava. I had hoped to avoid disturbing you."

"You mean to march then?"

"There are reasons, yes." Dava's lips curled in scorn. Reasons, indeed, but that was no reason for Uglu to personally move from his seat of power. Only two days past, the Freedom Fighters had won a crushing victory against Lord Erryk Stire, scattering his host, capturing his fort, and now holding the lord himself prisoner. These were grave tidings to be sure; Lord Erryk had proved himself as a shrewd battle commander in the civil wars of the last twenty five years. The issue of greater concern, no doubt, was that claiming Lord Erryk's fort meant that the Freedom Fighters had a foothold to launch an attack at Castle Cypress itself. Naturally Uglu would be concerned about the sword pointed at his heart, but still…

"May we speak privily, my lord?"

"If that is your wish." With surprising speed in such a heavily armored man, Uglu dismounted his horse and offered Dava his arm. A few moments found them enclosed in a gatehouse.

As Dava seated herself, she said bluntly, "Your march alone disturbs me."

"You will have heard the news, I trust? Lord Erryk's been taken prisoner, his fort is in rebel hands, most of his strength is dead or lost or newly sworn over to the enemy. It seems time that these Freedom Fighters were dealt with."

"Lord Erryk's fort is a strong keep, yes, but one keep alone is not enough to threaten us here. You are strongly positioned in Castle Cypress. One of your lords would serve you better, on this march."

Uglu's mouth quirked. "You forget. My lords are all traitors, every last one of them. This march is about so much more than destroying the Freedom Fighters, I must remind Cypress that not only am I just, but also, I am strong." He lapsed into silence for a moment. "There are few who deny that the coup was clever and effective, yet, too many important persons slipped through my fingers. If I cannot prove my superiority in combat, you may well be dealing with Vensic in my place."

"If I am to judge by your current course, that might be preferable."

"You need me, my lady, so that your little secret won't be let out. And you need me, or you won't have any connection to Iom. You cannot hope to hold Iom without an Iomite, nor can you hope to hold Cypress without these lords that now support me. I am your logical choice." He studied her with those shrewd blue eyes for a moment. "I must go, none of my other lords can replace me, and perhaps with your strength augmenting my own, these Freedom Fighters may be finished."

Rather than respond to the implication Dava pointed out, "This leader of theirs, this Gyan, he's too canny to concentrate all of his forces at Lord Erryk's hold. At best you'll be defeating a part of your enemy at grievous cost." As to his suggestion… perhaps joining her strength with his would be wise. But, was it merely a precaution on his part, or was he trying to isolate her, weaken her power?

"It's true that the fort is a strong keep, but strong keeps are made stronger by more men. There shall be enough of them there." He shrugged and added, "I never said we wouldn't have to kill or capture a lot of them, but all? If enough fall, there will be no need. Gyan or his lords will the see the sense in bending the knee."

Dava stared at him, incredulous. "These are the same lords who followed Nicholas in a time of worse odds than they currently enjoy, and you expect them to show _sense_? Gyan will not be finished until he is dead, or we are."

"I understand that Gyan is a man of honor, but men of honor often have sense. And perhaps some of his more prominent lords might be amenable to certain suggestions. I mean to offer generous terms for any who bend the knee."

"And who did you have in mind, Lord Warden? The oh-so gallant Sir Randolf? Or perhaps the Lady Sarah? If you're expecting any of them to come to their knees before you, then you're asking for grief."

"In this sad and sorry world, there is very little that I expect. I do, however, expect that you have more of a purpose here than hectoring me for my choices. What is it you would have of me?"

His arrogance was really almost more than Dava was prepared to stomach. Nonetheless, she forced herself to answer as calmly as possible, "There's been news, from the mainland."

Uglu arched a very thin brow. "Oh, news is it? And this news would be?"

Dava knew that she was stepping around a very treacherous pass now. Ever since she had initially misjudged the man, he held power over her and he still did. Oh, she could mitigate it where she had to, but in the end, he was right. She needed Uglu, though he was far from ideal. He was still watching her, weighing her. Judging her.

_He has no right. _"Warderer has betrayed Iom."

For a long moment Uglu did nothing. And then, "King Warderer is Iom." He stood. "If you are trying to w-"

"He's fled Iom. He's abjured the god. He's nothing now."

"I don't believe you," snapped Uglu, so upset that he could not control his voice. Trembling slightly he raised his hands, "Out with it. What would you have of me? I will not betray my king, but-"

"Even when he's betrayed you?"

More measured this time, Uglu repeated, "I don't believe you."

Dava leant forward, disregarding the note of anger warming Uglu's tone. He might disbelieve now, but when the same report came to him through his own sources… As for his march, joining their strength together might not be a bad notion. Though, with Bulldor still gone and Kisaragi still occupied, she didn't have any free commanders. Brushing all this aside she smiled. "You would know what I would have of you? Very well, my lord. I would see you crowned."

---

"I've allocated additional troops to Rilix, yes. She serves me well." Mishalea did not want to be having this conversation, but she had no illusions. She was duly grateful to Geshp, had it not been for him, it might well be Zeon ruling from Skull Castle now, rather than her. Nonetheless, she couldn't profess any great warmth for the plump, smiling, schemer. If only she could indulge herself in an execution…

"Are you quite certain that that is wise, my lady? I know of Rilix's respectable history, but never forget that she is a Vandal. Galm got us into this mess, did he not?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Geshp? You'd like to be the only one I rely on. Well, it won't do you any good. I take a lesson from Zeon's death." Even as she said the words, Mishalea knew that they were brash, reckless. Geshp himself couldn't kill her, but with enough aid… Still, she could not help herself. Petty though it was, she did not want Geshp to be serving her. She _wanted_ Lynx.

_He betrayed me. Bastard. _

She had cherished high hopes on Lynx… and now he was dead. And his numerous small-minded vengeances…

_This is all your fault, Max,_ she thought sullenly. It was too. Were it not for that single implacable foe, Mishalea would not need to be sitting here, relying on Geshp now. She couldn't even think of Max any longer without getting hotly angry. As Zeon had been wont to do. She could not allow clear, cold, reason to be side-tracked. Not for Max, not for Lynx, not for Geshp, not for anything.

Geshp in the meantime had changed subjects. "Yes, well, be that as it may, the fall of the barricade is a grievous blow." He shook his head sadly as he lifted a jeweled goblet to his lips. "A very tragic happening indeed. I did warn the High Commander, my lady, you must recall I did warn him." He sighed. "But he would not listen, nor would he bend. Too much pride."

Mishalea's gaze was icy. She hardly needed this chinless cretin telling her where Eiku's faults lay. "High Commander Eiku gave good advice in that regard. The speed with which our forces fell proves his point very well."

"Still… it is most troublesome. Perhaps we could still salvage the region, however. With Lord Oddeye's assistance, your Supreme General might prove effective in reclaiming the territory."

That touched a sore point, certainly. When Slit had run back to Skull Castle, what was left of his tail between his legs, Mishalea had been tempted to give him death for so pathetic a failure. His forces had sustained losses, but he would still have been strong enough to reverse the situation there. Had he marched to Cameela's aid immediately, it might well be the Shining Force defeated rather than the other way around. And yet, despite her inclination, she was forced to honor the lizardman as a great hero of the war. He had defeated the Shining Force after all, and at this point, it would be more than a little demoralizing to her troops to see their Supreme General executed when he had such a victory under his belt.

"The Supreme General is needed for other duties. The most important matter at the moment must be Tao and her friends."

"The ones that Lynx betrayed?"

Mishalea bristled at the mention of her disgraced former commander, but she refrained from commenting. "Betrayed yes, but not killed. That's the important point. I can get into contact with them again and negotiate a quick end to this war."

"Only if they choose to negotiate. Were I in their position, I am not certain that I would wish to oblige."

"I'll assuage their fears by offering to meet at a neutral point equally removed from Max's radius of power and from mine. However, they will arrive, not in force, but all together. I shall require a strong escort. I'd like you to come."

At that, Mishalea saw real surprise in Geshp's flecked, yellow eyes. "Truly?" When she did not answer Geshp said, "My lady, you honor me." He bowed deeply, "I swear to you, I shall do my best to set ideal terms for them."

_Yes, _she thought, _and more to the point, I do in fact honor you. That's what you care about, hollow suit of armor that you are. _

In truth, she wanted Geshp there for two reasons. It was true that he wielded words exceptionally and he would most like be an excellent help in hammering out some sort of treaty. The far more compelling reason, however, was that Mishalea did not trust Geshp. Far better to keep him with her, where she could see him and, if necessary, crush him beneath her heel. As the little devil gushed compliments and bowed out of the door, Mishalea concluded that she had not handled him badly. And, fortunately, she had gotten a report from the recently returned Bazoo as to Gepple's death. That was another enemy gone, so all was well enough.

Rather satisfied, in fact, she thought, _that's one. _

---

"I suppose that you really are intending to go through with this." Anri faced Max squarely, her face cold.

Max shifted uncomfortably. Why did he always have to justify himself? "Anri… you know that I don't have a choice here. What else am I to do? If I turn Warderer away, we'll have to kill him. That's not what this war is about."

"I thought that this war was about justice. Or have you forgotten? You always used to tell us."

Max pushed himself up out of his chair. "Anri, please. You have to support me on this. I can't… I can't…"

"You're not strong enough to bear the burdens of war? Is that what you're trying to say? Tell me, where is that very fine justice that you always spoke of in allowing Warderer to live?"

His face flushed. "_I am not weak_!" Trembling slightly he growled, "And get off of your bloody high ground. Guardiana started this war because we were provoked. Say what you will, but don't lie about this Anri! You've wanted Mishalea dead for what happened to your father, just as much as anything else."

"Your Grace," she corrected him. "You took me for your queen once. And now, as a friend, I beg you, do not do this. There are other ways… better ways. Strike Warderer's head off and be done with it."

"No. He's right and you know it. Warderer can make all the difference in this war. How else are we to break Mishalea, now and forever? Besides, it isn't fair to him, to judge him like this. We don't know what happ-"

'"It isn't fair to him?"' Anri cocked her head to the left, her face disbelieving. "So, Mishalea did something terrible to him in the past. So what? He's slaughtered _thousands_ in bloody vengeance and _we_ aren't being fair to _him_? And that barely scratches the surface of his crimes. Is this what you call justice, Max? Is this what it tastes like?"

"You can't doubt me. You've seen that I _am_ just. I didn't behead Lemon, did I?"

"That was being, reasonable. Understanding, compassionate, fair. None of those things," Anri pointed out, "are necessarily the same as justice. And for all your talk of sparing Lemon, you're sending him to Grans all the same. You know that if Granseal wins the war, they'll behead him, and you satisfy yourself that justice is done?"

"That's… that's not what I-"

"I know that's not what you wanted, but that's what things are anyway. You didn't want to keep Lemon here, because sooner or later you would have had to kill him, so you're sending him back as soon as you can commandeer one of Luke's ships." She looked almost sad. "I thought you were better than this, Max."

Max sat back down as Anri walked out, stung at the memory of saying much the same thing to Cameela just a day ago. Was he really betraying his own beliefs? Gods, didn't the others know that it sickened him to use Warderer? But he had to. Rune needed victory and true victory would need Warderer.

Feeling small and sad and lost, Max poured himself a drink. He meant to see this war through to the end. With Mishalea's head mounted on a spike. If only he could find some way to keep his respect and to keep Warderer alive… He raised his voice, "Mae?"

The centaur trotted in, "My lord?" Max smiled. That was something at least. Mae was always there. Solid, impenetrable, loyal… "Find Lowe for me." Mae nodded briefly and stepped out immediately.

Max settled back down, mulling over the situation. Though he was not wont to brood, he could not deny that things had become very serious. Just now… just now he needed harmony with his forces. It was a delicate moment. If he could manage to bring the war to an end soon… He had all the requisite necessities for the final assault, he just needed more men.

Lowe walked in looking at Max with an expression that was suspiciously like pity. The healer crossed his legs and began without preamble. "You quarreled with Anri. Again."

Max flushed at the abrupt statement. "I," he began loudly, but Lowe raised a hand.

"Do you mind if I have some of that?" Max nodded his assent, and for the next several seconds, Lowe's hands busied themselves with the decanter and a glass. Finally he settled back down, taking dignified sips from his glass. "Your problem, Max," he continued, looking straight in Max's eyes, "is that you want to be loved."

"Everybody wants to be loved," he objected. "I hardly consider that to be-"

"Let me finish. You want to be loved, and you're very good at it. You know where to go to find smiles, laughter, friendship. Yet, you actively sabotage your relationships with… well, with women." Lowe arched a brow at him. "I rather suspect that that's because of some sort of absurd fears on your part that you will tell me that you know to be absurd." He lapsed into momentary silence, studying the color of the wine. "This is really good you know. That's probably a good thing too. This is obviously going to be a taut, maudlin conversation."

"Please. I didn't call you here to discuss matters of… of romance."

"Didn't you?" Lowe chuckled easily. "Let me give you some advice Max. We're all of us afraid of happiness, almost as much as we want it. It's easier, in some ways, to embroil ourselves in irony. In your case though, as far as I can judge things, you've never actually tried romance. So why don't you-"

"Surely the war is more important than my woes with women, Lowe." He scowled heavily, trying to discourage Lowe from continuing the current subject of conversation. The healer promptly ignored that.

"Love is a battlefield."

"Shut up! I'm trying to have a serious discussion here, but you-"

Lowe strolled over to the sideboard and refilled Max's glass. "You are in bad shape. Allow me to say-"

"I think you've said enough."

Lowe chuckled again. "Very droll. In fact, you know, you'd find it fairly easy. You're not a bad-looking man, Max, and you've already discovered that you have a certain sort of magnetism. You even have style, and you can be incredibly attractive. All you have to do is actually try it. If you did, you might find any number of your frustrations would… well, at least be lessened."

"This conversation is ridiculous!"

"I agree. Life is often ridiculous."

Max lifted his eyes to the ceiling of the tent, imploring his friend. "Please… please, understand Lowe. I can't embark on this conversation with you. I know that you're trying to help me, and dammit, I know that I would like some help in a way. But I can't handle all of these things on top of each other. You know that. So I don't want your help now. And you can't help someone that doesn't want the aid!"

"Ah, but you just said that you do want help, in part. You know as well as I do that this won't go away if you ignore it Max. Particularly if you wreck your friendship with Anri." Max turned a reproachful gaze on the smiling healer. Lowe held up a hand, "Very well, I surrender. I just want to be happy for you, you know."

"Then be happy that I'm fighting this damn war so well."

"War never pleases me."

"You are insufferable."

"And by this point, we are both a little drunk."

With effort, Max resisted the urge to rise to the bait. "Let's move away from that point. Have you looked at Cameela?"

"And you tell me that you aren't preoccupied with affairs of the heart."

"That's not what I meant."

"Sorry." Lowe sipped at the wine again. "Yes, I've taken a look at her. There doesn't seem to be too much wrong with her aside from an attack of water magic. Although, you know, I've been wondering about that. Why would she have been attacked?"

"Mayhaps she was betrayed." Max peered at his glass, admiring the fractured reflections. "Although Hawel told me that warded water, if not being directly used by the sorcerer, is indiscriminate."

"I see. And Hawel would know this, how, exactly?"

"He's something of a scholar, I believe. So Cameela's doing well?"

"I didn't quite say that," Lowe pointed out. "'Well' might be stretching it a bit. She is a prisoner of war after all. Truth to tell, she seems to be a bit depressed, but that could mean anything."

Max smiled bitterly. "Probably about Oddeye. She denied his involvement with us quite emphatically." He shook his head. "He certainly knows how to have power over people's hearts."

"And there we are, back at that subject again."

`Max bit back the urge to retort, merely fixing Lowe with a chilly glance. He doubted that his friend was actually intimidated, but, he didn't say anything else. Stroking his jaw in concern, Max admitted, "This business with Warderer is bothering me."

"It's bothering all of us."

"You too? Why does nobody understand, that-"

Lowe held up a hand. "Easy there. I understand exactly what your line of reasoning is. But if you're talking about Nick's opposition, well, honestly, what could you have expected? Warderer master-minded a coup against Nick and manipulated the Civil War. He's hardly going to forget that."

Max stood abruptly, feeling weary all over again. "Warderer can make all of the difference in this war. And I truly believe that he doesn't care about Cypress."

"Ah, but Nick cares about Warderer. Even if he did see this as a measure of expedience, you know that it will also make him look weak, to his detractors." Lowe arched an eyebrow. "You should know that better than anyone Max. You came from a bloody culture."

"I never lived in Grans well enough to know anything." He could still remember his mother's blood raining down… _So long ago. _"But you Lowe. What do you say of this… alliance?"

"Personally, I find the irony appalling. I do think you're right though. The others will probably come around. It's just… galling."

Max gazed evenly at his friend for a good long moment. He had thought with Ian's sudden coming… but no. He did still need Lowe, as much as he ever had. It was just different. "I've ruined a lot of lives, haven't I?"

"If by that, you mean that you've fought in war, then yes. But ruined?" Lowe snorted. "You've touched people's lives, Max. You've shown them something brighter… a future. They love you."

Max was silent for what seemed to be a long time then. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut, against a startling backdrop of wetness. "That's… that's what I've been afraid of." He took a calming breath, and blinked his eyes back open. Lowe met his gaze with understanding, compassion… but it was not enough. It never had been.

A polite voice called out, "Might I enter?"

Without paying attention Max gave his assent. In a moment the tent flap swept aside to reveal the figure of Luke. Max lurched to his feet, but Luke was already speaking.

"We've just arrived my lord and I thought you…" He looked older. "Well I thought I'd come."

"Please," said Max. "Sit down. Refresh yourself. Here, let me call your commanders here with us, we should-"

Luke held up a quick hand. "Before that Lord Max… I… have grave tidings for you." There was something sad in Luke's eyes that Max did not remember. But it was war. War had aged all of them.

---

The man who entered was tall and carried himself with melancholy bearing. It took Oddeye a moment to place him. "You would be the near legendary Nosshu."

The man inclined his head slightly. "A poor legend, my lord."

"Yes, well, what is it?" Oddeye only hoped it would be some trivial matter. Though serving Mishalea was certainly advisable, he simply had too much going on in his mind to deal with much at the moment. Aside from plotting Geshp's slaying of course.

Nosshu was holding a tray with… what looked to be a letter on it. Oddeye's interest stirred. Orders from Mishalea perhaps? But why wouldn't she give those in person? Or could it be something surfaced from Lynx?

Truth to tell, Lynx's suicide had been a great disappointment to Oddeye. He had never bothered to tell Cameela about it, but he had chosen to tell Lynx that Eiku had staged the failed hit. Oddeye didn't know that Eiku had, of course, but it was a fair guess. In the end it was almost certainly Eiku or Magus. And Magus was a sot. He had hoped that playing off of Lynx's hatred would keep Mishalea's forces off balance. But then Lynx had killed himself and Mishalea had killed Zeon.

Feeling weary, Oddeye leant over and picked up the letter. It wasn't marked. As he began unfolding the paper, Nosshu said quietly, "I had thought that perhaps you should like to take a drink."

"No. Thank you." He only gave Nosshu the briefest of attention before turning back to the unfolded parchment. It was a single line, no more. He read it twice in close succession, and then fell back in his chair, massaging his temples. He supposed he ought not to be surprised, but still… The _why _it eluded him. Why should he care about Cameela any longer? She had only ever been a tool… Ah, but then he had respected her. Perhaps that was the secret. It was not so much what one did, but what one saw. The thought disturbed Oddeye immensely. And beneath all of that, he could also recognize a grinding anger at the letter. A weary anger certainly, but it was anger nonetheless.

He called out, "Perhaps I was… hasty Lord Nosshu. I should indeed like to take a drink with you, to know you better."

A faint smile brushed Nosshu's lips, though it did nothing to alleviate the melancholy in his bearing. He quickly drew up a chair, and seated himself, offering Oddeye a decanter. Oddeye accepted, not really paying attention to that, but focusing instead on the man before him. Had Nosshu read the letter? Most like, but Oddeye wouldn't demean himself by asking. Instead he said, in a faint note of surprise, "You're human."

"Ah. Yes. That usually does take others aback. They don't assume it."

Silence rolled on and on. Finally Oddeye replied, "I never… I never meant to feel… certain things. That I have. I mean…" Why had he said that? He didn't want to blurt out his maudlin ponderings to this man, regardless of how pleasant he might be. Ah, but all the same, there was something comforting about Nosshu.

Nosshu replied very quietly, "We all make choices, my lord." He swirled his wine a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "I confess, I have a second reason to be here. Lady Mishalea means to take a brief leave of absence from Skull Castle. She means to leave you here to rule jointly with High Commander Eiku."

Oddeye arched a brow. "Am I to take that as a token of her trust?"

"Perhaps. But we all make of things what we will."

Oddeye considered that point for a long moment. Certainly, relativity had its uses for a tired mind. He raised his glass slightly, "I am… grateful to you, Lord Nosshu. You have brought me something valuable. Mayhaps we will be successful allies, you and I."

Nosshu bowed his head. "I haven't brought you much, my lord." He rose to his feet, extending a hand. As Oddeye took it, he was reminded, rather forcibly of Gort. This was different, but for some reason or other, he and Nosshu were friends. In that Oddeye would take comfort. And perhaps he would find focus again, as well.

---

Warderer was well-pleased when the summons finally came. Amusing as it was to watch his so-called allies jumping at every little movement he made, their company and conversation was decidedly boring. Well, he amended, not entirely boring. There had been a handful of simply delightful encounters sprinkled throughout. He had attempted to speak to Anri of Guardiana once, and she had turned a wonderful shade of purple. There had also been the bit of fun he'd had with that rather serious young fellow, a mage or something.

On the whole though, the mockery was so easy as to lose its savor. Nonetheless, persistence was an inherent quality of victory, so Warderer hadn't entirely stopped trying. "Isn't this the part where you're supposed to jab me with your spear?"

The centaur they had allocated to guarding him did not deign to respond. "Really, it hurts me that you won't speak to me." Still nothing. Warderer sighed, and continued his prodding. "Truth to tell, you're much prettier than I'd expect a centaur to be."

The centaur said stiffly, "No talking." Warderer smiled with satisfaction. Finally.

"What's this now, not used to compliments?" He allowed a pause before he went on in the same amiable tone. "Well, I can't blame you for that, with your attitude. If I possessed such, compliments would shock me too."

The centaur glared at him with pure loathing. "You would be well-advised to guard that tongue of yours, or someone is liable to cut it out."

"Oh my. Surely we're not regressing to anything as boorish as _threats_? I understand that it's terribly impolite to threaten one's guest." At that, the centaur looked rather uncomfortable. Sensing his advantage, Warderer laughed, "Oh, have I touched a sore point, my lady? As you have no love in your life, you can at least be dutiful, is that it? You would never be so un-chivalrous as to threaten your guest." He smiled broadly as they came to a halt.

The centaur said, "Get in." When Warderer did not move, she repeated, "Get in."

"Far be it from me to refuse the request of such fair young maiden." Warderer performed a swift, sketching bow, before turning away and sauntering into the tent. A glance told him that Max had summoned most of his captains, some of whom were unfamiliar, and a tall, long-haired man, who quickly buried his face in his hands. Warderer gasped.

"Why my dear Lord Max, I thought you'd never send for me. Who pray was that most discourteous guard you set upon me? I tell you, it rather hurt my feelings to be threatened when I came here in good faith."

Max looked exhausted. He turned to the man who still had his face in his hands. "It was… what's the name… Dawn, wasn't it?"

The man sat up, turning away as he said, barely audibly, "Yes."

Warderer giggled. "Oh, stop doing that. I recognized you _yesterday_."

Deanna sighed, and turned around to face him. He said in a grudging tone, "I understand that you're no longer a king. My condolences."

"And I understand that you are still alive, contrary to popular rumor. That must be a relief for you."

Deanna gazed at him with something that was decidedly less than favor, but Max broke in. "What is the meaning of this? You two _know_ each other?"

The absurdity of the situation was too much for Warderer. He broke into loud laughter. "Oh my. Oh, this is sweet. You mean to tell me that you never even knew? You've been allied with him and you never even knew?" He moderated his amusement to a chuckle. "I seem to have made things rather awkward. How delightful."

Nicholas II muttered, "You always make things awkward."

Warderer smirked, "Why King Nicholas. What a coincidence meeting you here." Nick audibly ground his teeth at that. "But really, I don't think you can reasonably accuse me of that. I really don't."

"I know you," snapped the king.

Warderer pouted. "Now really. I honestly don't think that having killed and having caused the deaths of thousands of my men over the past few years qualifies as a social acquaintance. I really don't."

Max snapped irritably, "Stop that, both of you. You're sidetracking the issue. What we're interested in, at the moment, is exactly what connection Warderer has with Deanna here."

Warderer pounced. "Oh yes, how frightfully stupid of me. I do," he confessed, "get distracted so easily. Deanna here is General Hindel's brother." Silence greeted this pronouncement. Had any of them already known? Warderer hoped not. It would make this volatile scene all the richer in his memory.

Deanna stood then, facing away from the others. He said in a tired voice, "That's… true. I regret to admit that I once served Warderer. Until I was… betrayed." He sighed deeply. "Ian guessed part of the truth. And I think that Dawn knew. Nobody else." There was still only unbroken silence in response. "All I would remind you," Deanna said at last, "is that I have served you as faithfully as I could, at an expense to mine own countrymen…"

Max asked, "How exactly did you serve Warderer?" He sounded even more tired than Deanna. Warderer could guess why. Most like, the leader of the Shining Force wanted to find some way in which he could say that justice did not demand recompense for whatever Deanna may have done.

Smiling maliciously, Warderer broke in quickly, "If I confess that he served me in council as minor military officer, would you still love me?"

Max glanced sharply in his direction, but it was Deanna who spoke next. "I… that is…" Warderer could see him palpably groping. "Hindel's my brother. What else can you expect me to say? I… I love him. But when he made it known to us that General Barbara's platoon was on the move I-"

Warderer interjected, "_Hindel_? Hindel betrayed Barbara?" His good humor evaporated. "Well. Be that as it may. What further _assurances_ would you have of me?"

Max stepped swiftly into the awkward breach. "I don't believe you know my commander here. Lord Luke." He gestured at a grey-faced man.

Luke said in a brittle voice, "Sir Luke. Sir."

Warderer's brows twitched. "Only by his fearsome reputation."

"He's brought us enough men to finally commence a march on Skull Castle. We're developing a plan now, and we will move soon. Once we besiege Mishalea, we can develop a new plan to actually storm the place. There are a handful of things that we require from you however."

"Let me make an educated conjecture; will my former men fight for me if we commence an assault? That would rather depend…"

"We've already had word on that. Apparently a high-ranking officer of yours has crowned himself. Ravel, I believe."

Warderer laughed with delight. "So, Ravel's a king now? Well, I can't say I blame him. The power's there for the taking and with Mishalea's support… Oh no. Very shrewd on his part."

An unfamiliar looking centaur asked the next question. He was older, stout, dignified. "Is there any chance that some of your forces might betray this Ravel for you?"

Warderer shrugged. "It's possible. I couldn't say, though."

Nicholas suddenly spoke then, in a half-strangled tone of voice. "Let me ask you this… my lord. You say that Ravel made a good choice, taking the power that was there. How can we possibly trust the disciple of Iom?"

"Iom can go bugger himself for all I care. He gave me a country, an army, some powers… but did he kill Mishalea for me? Did he help me kill Mishalea? You have something that frightens her and you've nearly put her on her knees. That's all I care about, and that's what I'll have of you." He knew they would have other questions, but it was all meaningless until they took his point for what it was. He turned and left.

---

Hindel slowed himself down for a moment, trying to regain his breath. Some fool or other with a sword had tried to stop him and there hadn't been time for anything more subtle, so Hindel had killed him. Nonetheless, cautious by nature, he had tried to flee the area. The man might have had other comrades who would be eager to avenge his death.

In the meantime, in practical terms, Hindel supposed he should prepare himself for his eventual meeting with the Shining Force. He couldn't go to them empty-handed, even if they did trust Deanna. Fortunately, he did have something to offer them, and that was all that really mattered.

Nodding resolutely and puffing out a little breath, Hindel put one foot forward. A rasping voice stopped him. "Well. Well, well, well. What is Warderer's Black Knight doing all the way out here?"

Hindel spun about, his blade already out by the time he faced the speaker. "You… Vandal."

Rilix sat before him in her magical sedan chair, clutching the arms and smirking rather obscenely. "I would advise you to put that sword away."

He held it out, pointed straight at her. "Forgive me, but that doesn't inspire much confidence, coming from you."

She barked disdainful laughter. "I am a _Vandal_ you little fool. You can scarcely threaten me with a bit of pointed steel." Her smile was ugly. "But, nonetheless, you might provide some entertainment for us. Some might wish to know why you fled Skull Castle so suddenly… after assassinating General Barbara, mayhaps?"

"Solo killed Barbara. Or perhaps Mishalea."

Rilix's smile widened. "Solo's dead and Mishalea has no secrets from me. Not even those that she tries to keep. Did you know, for example, that her High Captain is an Inferior Vandal?"

"I don't have time to facilitate your twisted games."

That seemed to amuse her. "Oh, but you have all the time in the world. At least… all the time that I give you." Hindel was unimpressed. There was, however, something in her eyes that reminded him of Solo. An innate joy of cruelty.

"I won't let you take me," he warned her.

"Let me? You little fool, you've already lost." She snapped her fingers and in half a moment, Hindel was surrounded by soldiers. "Try to cut through them and I'll ward you with magic. I have some questions for you."

---

Bulldor peered through the gloom, clutching his hammer confidently. He had fetched this staff for Dava twice before, so he had been prepared for every contingency this time. He knew, in fact, that he should have just killed Rashag sooner, but he had allowed his hatred to best his judgment. He had never wanted to kill any of the sacrificial soldiers more than he had Rashag.

To be sure, he was involved with very little of the killing himself. Only the last one. He knew that now that the moment had come, he should just kill Rashag quickly and hurry back to Mistress Dava… but he wanted to humiliate his foe a little. He wanted to play.

He took a cautious step forward. Still there was nothing. He took two more steps forward, and there, he heard the whistle of steel through the air. He turned, flipping his massive hammer up to meet Rashag's blade. There was shock and fear across the soldier's brutal, dim, features.

"Rashag, matey. I've been waiting for this." With that, Bulldor commenced the attack. When Rashag swung down low, he went the center, forcing his foe to pull up hard. When Rashag went high, Bulldor ducked, still going for the center. And when Rashag went for the center… well that hadn't happened yet.

Abruptly giving vent to a bestial roar, Bulldor lept forward swinging the hammer with all of his strength, driving Rashag back towards the altar. The staff was glowing blue. There was sheer panic in the brash soldier's face now, as he tried to keep a defense. Bulldor confidently went in for a left feint, and then whipped the hammer around only to find it deflected by Rashag's blade and swept hard against the altar's barrier. The golden hammer shattered.

"Me hammer," shrieked Bulldor. Rashag lost no time, however, before going in for a thrust. It might have been deadly, but the soldier's aim was off in the bad light. Growling hatred, Bulldor forced himself forward and seized his smirking foe about the throat. Rashag screamed as Bulldor lurched him up off of his feet, crushing as best he could. The soldier slashed hysterically, and Bulldor squeezed all the tighter. In another moment, Bulldor tossed the corpse away, and fell to his knees. Groaning, he dragged himself over to the altar; he could touch it now, and took the staff.

"Not dead yet," he sobbed as crawled back the way he had come, cursing himself for overconfidence.


	46. Chapter 46: Final Choices

Chapter 46:

Final Choices

"We have been offered a new chance at negotiations. From Mishalea herself." Tao studied her companions suspiciously. As she had hoped, the blunt statement startled them. Interestingly enough, Musashi calmed down almost at once. Ridion, however, seemed to be much more shaken. Tao smiled unpleasantly, fully pleased with herself for having disturbed the dwarf's smugness.

The dwarf put a bold face on it though. "Oh does she now? Well, ain't that awful 'andsome of 'er? I sez she wants us dead."

"She claims the attack was taken at Lynx's command." Tao gazed at the dwarf, playing with the idea of accusing him to Max. "And she's offered to meet us in a neutral spot, far from Skull Castle. Far from here."

Musashi broke in. "I will trust her word. We must…" he paused, grinding his teeth. "We must do our duty, no? I was there. Rather than slaying Warderer as he so deserved, Lord Max allowed himself to be swayed by Hanzou and has spared the scum. He even speaks of an alliance now." The samurai's breath was harsh. "I love Lord Max as much as any man, but we cannot allow him to do this. For his own good." He added, "The suffering is appalling. Peace may be negotiated swiftly."

_Thank the gods for Warderer_, thought Tao, though the irony did not escape her. She had always known that Musashi was unhappy in his role as a traitor, but it seemed that this new debacle with the king of Iom had stiffened his spine. For her part, Tao had chosen to stop considering the whys of the matter. Peace would not come until Max bent the knee, and that he would never do. _I never wanted his war. _

She silenced her stray doubts by declaring loudly, "Fortunately, it's not your decision, Ridion. Paezorta personally vouched for this venture, and I am of a mind to oblige Mishalea's request."

The dwarf's eyebrows shot up. "Oh are ye? Well, far be it from me to deny _yer_ opinion." Open malice gleamed in Ridion's eyes. "We're trustin' your word o' his word because yer fuckin' him."

Tao's eyes narrowed, but Musashi was faster than she was. His steel unsheathed, the samurai said coldly, "Guard your tongue sir."

"Oho, so the two's of you is the way o' it then?"

Tao dismissed that with a brief glance. "You are a disgusting little man, do you know that?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Say what you will Ridion, but in the end, you'll come. I know you will."

The dwarf seemed put out. "An' 'ow would ye be reachin' that conclusion?"

Tao shrugged. "Why else? You can't get what you want from anybody but Mishalea at this point. And you're curious to see what I'll do."

---

If High Commander Eiku had hoped that the wine would loosen Clatt's tongue, then the mage decided he would be destined to be disappointed. Doubtless, the effect was supposed to be one of power, but the way Eiku perched, almost bird-like, and his nose jutted like a beak ruined the whole charade. The wine was good though. Clatt nervously took another mouthful.

"I understand that you served Lynx at Pao," Eiku said at last. Too nervous to say anything, Clatt bobbed his head. Eiku steepled his fingers and leant forward. "Good. What did he say to you of his treasons?"

"T… tr… treasons? M…m'lord."

"Yes, his treasons." Eiku peered hard at Clatt, as though trying to see through him. The mage paused in a quandary? What did Eiku want to hear?

"N…n…noth…nothing." It came out as a squeak. _A guilty squeak_, he thought. _He knows I killed them. _In retrospect, Clatt was disappointed at those murders. If Lord Lynx had remained in power, then it very possibly could have served him, but with Lynx's shameful suicide… Eiku might well take off his head for no better reason than the fact that Lynx had raised Clatt high.

"I have need of good men around me," Eiku declared abruptly. "Yet, interestingly enough, I find no mention of you until Lynx chose to promote you. Why, do you suppose, would he do that?"

Clatt never knew where he found the courage, but the next words tumbling out of his mouth were, "W…why would y…y…you r…raise Slit h…h…high? M'lord."

There was long moment and then Eiku burst out laughing, slapping the polished wood of his desk. "Ah, you're a bold man mage. Yes, a good question that one. Very well, all I require is feal service, better than you gave Lynx at Pao and you'll find me as open-handed a master as you could wish." Eiku's gaze was direct. "What do you say?"

Feeling slightly more confident, Clatt managed, "Th…that's good. To know. M…m…m'lo…" He gave it up before he managed to embarrass himself.

The High Commander smiled thinly. "Excellent, well and truly good. Do well by me and you won't be sorry. As for the rest, you are to give no offense to Lord Oddeye, d'you hear me? Pay no heed to Magus, I'll handle him. For the rest, if you're not sure, clear whatever you're doing with me." He added almost as an afterthought, "Oh, and betray me and you'll die."

Clatt stammered, "M…m'lord i…i…is k…k…kind and, and ge…gener…generous."

Eiku waved a magnanimous hand. "Be that as it may. Go. I'll send for you later and we can speak of a great many things"

Still muttering thanks, Clatt bowed his way out the room. Once he was removed from the High Commander's sight, he heaved a deep sigh of relief, though he still shook slightly. Taking himself firmly in the hand, the mage told himself that he'd handled that rather well. Clatt truly hadn't known what to expect when High Commander Eiku had called for him, but this was as well as things could possibly have turned out. In fact, Clatt had retained all of his honors.

He managed a shaky smile at that. Had any of the others, Riker perhaps, or Number One certainly, survived Pao, they wouldn't have survived Lynx's suicide. They were too proud to bend, too loyal to Lynx's memory to yield to Eiku. Clatt though… well his whole life had taught him the value of compromise, not to mention subterfuge. He was also enough of an outsider to the structures of power for Eiku to risk keeping, and for that, Clatt was duly grateful.

Nodding his head resolutely, the mage decided that changes would be coming. He would oversee the aspect of justice and approve of every decision that his master came to. The only remaining loose end was Supreme General Slit. Clatt had never met the lizardman, nor did he have any cause to mislike him, but Slit was a voice that influenced Eiku. The mage shifted sulkily. Had Lynx lived, Clatt would have been his only influence. Could he do anything less for High Commander Eiku?

Still the thought of another casual murder made Clatt extremely nervous. Here especially. Pao was one thing, Skull Castle something quite different. He sternly silenced his doubts. He had emerged from Pao alive, and his strategies had been good. It had not been he who had caused the defeat at Pao; indeed, he had done better than any of Lynx's other, more seasoned commanders. He had emerged from that sorry debacle with real credentials, and that had made him too strongly placed for Eiku to risk killing him. Yes, this was so, and Clatt was also forced to acknowledge that all of this went to show that he was really a _strong _man. Was he not one of High Commander Eiku's loyal councilors now?

Seating himself comfortably, Clatt smirked at the thought of his remembered colleagues. He was stronger than Number One, shrewder than Fat Man, and of greater worth than Riker. He had outmaneuvered them all; most like he would ascend as high as the council itself. He was further assured in the knowledge that he had made everything of himself by his own merits. He was Clatt. The mage smiled, well pleased with himself.

It was finally sinking in, what he had only just tasted and started to understand at Pao. A lowborn mage he might be, but he had power, shrewdness, vision… and he now knew what it was that he had tasted at Pao. Clatt was just beginning to realize that power was a mighty intoxicating thing to possess.

---

Eiku massaged his temples as the servile mage scraped out of the door. He thought he had handled that rather well; nobody could claim that Eiku was anything less than just allowing one of Lynx's chosen officers to retain all his power. Besides, the man had done well at Pao from what Eiku understood, so he had an excuse. And of course, Eiku needed more men with both Cellion and Tarbeck dead… Slit was in disfavor as well.

Still, much good had come out of it all. Although Tao had slipped through his fingers, there was no doubt that she wouldn't entertain any notion of negotiating with Skull Castle now, so that was something. And though he couldn't profess to be overjoyed at the fall of the barricade, at least Cameela would be safely dead now, so whatever she had known didn't matter. Nonetheless…

_I have lost the prisons_.

Gods be dammed, he had known what he was giving up when he had blamed Tarbeck for Cellion's failure, but it was a blow all the same. He could take comfort in Lynx's death _and _dishonor he supposed, but that victory had lost its savor for some reason. With his most hated enemy slain and his cowardice commonly cursed, Eiku might have thought that everything would fall into place.

_Well it hasn't. The gods love to make mock of me. _

The truth was, he had lost too many men already in this bloody war. More than the worst estimates. He needed new allies and more maneuverability, but this late in the game… If Lynx had done him the courtesy of killing himself earlier and without wasting any of Eiku's time in prison, he might have had the authority he needed when he needed it. Still, Lynx had never ceased to take joy in making Eiku's life harder, so the High Commander supposed that it was to be expected.

Unfortunately, Eiku didn't have much to work with anymore. The most resourceful of his own men were all slain and most of Warderer's men were dead as well. And Zeon. He should never forget that. Eiku had never given too much of a damn about Darksol's revival, but he was pleased nonetheless with the death of the king of the devils. He had always been getting in the way.

When it came to that though, Eiku could hardly beg an alliance from Geshp. The plump little schemer had already somehow become Eiku's enemy and that meant that sooner or later Eiku would be bound to kill him. It was a shame, but there was nothing to be done with that. For his own oh-so honorable colleagues… Well, Eiku had always intended to kill Magus eventually. He should, just to be rid of the half-wit. And whilst Eiku was by no means the most scrupulous of men, he had not yet tried to ally himself to a man he meant to kill. And without Magus, that left Paezorta.

_I did offer him a chance_, Eiku thought resentfully. _He can't say that I didn't. I offered him alliance._

But then, Mishalea's pet High Captain had always been a fool. He was a braver man than Lynx had been, but Paezorta had always let small things, unimportant things, distract him from the goal at hand. Eiku had no respect for weakness and he would not forgive Paezorta for rebuffing his offer. And Paezorta was no better than Lynx when it came to Mishalea; Eiku was hardly a stupid man, he had seen the desire in Paezorta's eyes. Grudgingly, Eiku could even understand that. After all, Mishalea was very pleasant to look upon and he supposed he could understand that a man would want to take her into his bed, but any man who let such woman's weapons hold sway over his better judgment was a fool asking for grief. And Eiku had no intention of offering a hand to let Paezorta up, if he couldn't control his desire then he deserved to go down.

With a sigh, Eiku picked up the letter again, studying it without emotion. When all was said and done, what all of this really meant was that it was Lord Oddeye who was his best hope. Zeon's enigmatic most favored. Eiku was well aware that Oddeye despised Geshp and he hoped that perhaps that would be the way in which he could influence Oddeye to join him. Eiku would not say that too plainly however; Skull Castle had ears and Nosshu could learn of everything that went on it, and he might tell Mishalea anything. Geshp currently stood high in her favor, after all, for having betrayed Zeon.

Studying the letter, the best Eiku could honestly say, was that it wasn't discouraging. It was hardly encouraging either though, so that could mean anything. Practically speaking, the best thing would be to agree to meet with Lord Oddeye as the devil had suggested in this queer, cold letter. Eiku penned a note of acceptance, resigned. He had no doubt that Oddeye would want rather a lot, but Eiku needed allies and he had enough influence to be reasonably certain that he could accommodate Oddeye's requests. Or most of them anyway.

Sitting up straight, Eiku quickly sketched out his plans for the immediate future. He would call Slit back to him, it was past time that he spoke personally with that one. While Eiku still considered that raising Slit high had been the right thing to do, the lizardman might need to be taught a sharp lesson. And anyway, he would have to rely on Slit now, with Cellion in his grave. After that… he hesitated. If he called Clatt back, that would have to be a long process… It would be best to meet with Oddeye first, he concluded.

_And when I'm done here… Max, you will be dead. _

---

"Your soldiers seem to be fighting somewhat poorly," Hindel ventured. Rilix glared at him, but the Vandal did not deign to respond. Truth to tell, Hindel wasn't really interested in needling her, not so much out of a love for his life, but mostly for a disinterest in Rilix's fate. He was concerned enough as far as he himself mattered, but at this point, he didn't matter. Rilix would hardly try to hold him hostage, she didn't know about Deanna after all.

Hindel was in somewhat bad shape, but Rilix had not yet gotten around to any real torture before the Shining Force had so conveniently attacked. At another scream, Hindel squinted at the body. "That seems to be Big Ben. Given how good he was at kicking me, I would have thought he'd put up a _bit_ more of a fight." He shrugged and added glibly, "But they tell me that when soldiers perform poorly, the fault lies with their leaders." Rilix did not seem to be listening. "That would be you," he informed her. Even that failed to get a response. Hindel was about to try again, when Rilix suddenly hissed.

Startled, the Black Knight looked up and saw a man approaching them, hooded and robed in a pale pink. Rilix's eyes were flat, her voice full of hatred. "_Otrant._"

The man said in a carefully neutral tone, "Rilix. It's been a long time."

She barked laughter. "What could have induced you to crawl out of your hole?" As she spoke, she abruptly flashed energy at the man. Seemingly without any effort, the man countered with an orb of force.

"This is the war I was born to fight," he told her. As he spoke, he casually flicked out a sword of pure energy. Rilix paled, whether from anger or from fear, Hindel could not be certain.

"You brought _that _with you?" Her breath was choppy and harsh. She lashed more energy at him. "You have no idea how much I despise you."

Otrant looked tired. "Unfortunately, I do." He casually began an attack on her that seemed to purely involve spinning and flicking his wrists. Hindel had to admit, it made for an impressive sight.

"You must be senile. Without you or that, then Manarina-"

"I saw to Manarina. A successor is already chosen." He shook his head as he sharply brought up his blade to counter another orb of energy. "You never did study the prophecies as much as you should have, Rilix. That's what Galm did."

Her nostrils flared. "Don't even speak of Galm to me. You _betrayed _me!" The crone was abruptly on an all out offensive, flicking energy at her robed opponent wherever she could. To Hindle's way of thinking, she was offering many openings, but Otrant made no move to take advantage of this.

Rather, he kept up a purely defensive front as he replied, "As I best recall, you weren't interested in my help at the time."

To that, Rilix made no reply, but to press him all the more savagely. Hindel was quietly straining against his bonds, silently hoping that he could force his way free. So far, the struggle was proving futile.

Rilix in the meantime went hard on Otrant's left. The robed man lazily moved his sword to counter, and Rilix abruptly switched moving for a direct blow to the center. Time seemed to slow down, as Otrant wheeled his blade around slightly, ever so slightly, before thrusting forward, not even trying to stop Rilix's main attack…

The mage grunted, stumbling backwards at the fatal blow. He coughed weakly, "You always… were too confident of your feints." Frowning, the Vandal followed her dying opponent's gaze down, along his sword to Rilix's crystal, which it was plunged through.

"No," rasped the Vandal. "you… you sacrificed yourself? For that?"

A smile twitched onto Otrant's lips. "It… worked. You see, don't you? Rilix. You've… lost. Have to run now… Can't stay… unless you have the stomach. For what's coming. You know that. Should have. It's all… all there. In the books. Manarina. Strong. Well looked after. I just had to…" he coughed, "had to… toss. Toss the dice."

Fascinated despite himself, Hindel peered at the crystal. The light that had always emanated from it was darkening, there seemed to be some sort of thickening quality, as though clouds were gathering…

Otrant's mouth twisted into a queer grimace. "You know I'm right… essence is… escaping. Gods," he rasped. "know I didn't… want this. Rilix…"

The Vandal had an expression of sheer fury on her face. "And so again you've done this to me!" She looked with some apprehension at the crystal. And then she was gone. Hindel couldn't say what had happened to her; it was just more truth of the powers of the Vandals.

"Help me," said Hindel, struggling against his bonds again. Even if the mage was dying, he supposed that the man might still have strength enough to free him.

For a half-minute, Otrant regarded Hindel's struggles in silence. Then, abruptly, he said, "You're Warderer's, aren't you? I see his touch in your eyes."

Hindel gritted, "Either do me the courtesy of dying if you're going to, or, alternately, help me free. Preferably now."

Otrant tried to sit up, grunting harshly. Finally he lay back, blood still oozing out of his chest. "Very well," he panted. "It's not much a use for me final strength, but…" he waved a hand and Hindel's bonds snapped. The mage rasped, "I've done what I left Manarina for. The rest is to the future."

With those words, Otrant of Manarina settled back against the ground and closed his eyes. Hindel scrabbled upright, cursing the Vandal for having stolen his sword. In a moment, his knees buckled weakly, but Hindel ignored that. He staggered a few paces forward, when a centaur came rushing towards him, a spear held for a killing thrust.

"Wait," croaked Hindel throwing up his hands and stepping backwards. Surprisingly enough, the centaur complied to his request, albeit, still directing the point of the spear at his heart.

This one had a cold face and short, immaculately cut hair. A woman too, if Hindel was any judge. She studied him without comment for some moments and then she said in a tone that suggested she was grudging every word, "You would be Lord Deanna's brother. Warderer's infamous Black Knight. Hindel."

When put like that, Hindel supposed that he did sound rather menacing. He coughed apologetically. The centaur sighed. "I suppose I'd best take you to bend the knee to them."

---

Nick studied his hands expressionlessly. Once the battle had ended, he had decided to take no part in the farce of interrogating Hindel. Lord Max had already allied himself with Warderer, Hindel was nothing. It was expedient aye, but Nicholas of Cypress would not forget.

_You forced me to work with Warderer, Max. I shall not forgive Guardiana that._

In the meantime, however, the king sensed a lingering opportunity. Let Max and his friends worry themselves about the final assault; Nick could see this war ending. That had started when Mishalea's Supreme General had opted to run rather than fight. Nick did not need to make his voice heard in the councils that would be deciding the final assault on Skull Castle. Warderer and Hindel were now his allies and Solo and Barbara were dead. There were none remaining for whom Nicholas's knowledge would be required. Besides, if all his plans went well, Skull Castle would soon be irrelevant to his aims.

Still, this was the Shining Force he was dealing with, this was the court and the friends of Guardiana, this was Lord Max, and if there was one thing that Nicholas had learned from Lord Max, it was never to expect the fruition of his plans.

_All that I do, I do for Cypress. _

Nick did not desire any specific glory for its own sake; besides, he had done enough in the war already to cement a reputation as a warrior. He had only three pressing concerns left as far as the war went. The spiriter Dava. Cypress. And Lord Max.

Indeed, he supposed that he might as well be grateful to Lord Max, ironic though it was, for allying himself with Warderer. If not for that, Uglu might well be too strongly placed for Nick to hope for Cypress now… If Warderer was truly an ally of the Shining Force, however, Uglu had no hope of aid from Iom. Consequently, Nick was eager to bring about that point as rapidly as he could. He only had a little more business to attend to with the Shining Force, and then… Well, he knew how to influence Lord Max in this much.

He shifted his gaze back to the trade agreement he had carefully outlined. It was close enough to the same document he had given Lord Max for Queen Anri to study, but Nick was confident the Max had never actually shown the document to Anri. If he could obtain this trade agreement…

Then there was the matter of Mayfair, but Nick was content to let that wait just a little longer. In the end Mayfair would bow to his will, he was her king. At long last, Nick met the eyes of the advisor he had asked here today. Yeesha studied him boldly. She had been the court mage at Cypress, an empty title, but Nick was sure of her loyalty. Not to his father, but to him. That made her invaluable, and besides, he had known her as a child. They had even played together. Such foolishness, in retrospect. Was it the slight doubt in his thoughts that prompted him to speak?

"Read it." He pushed the paper across the small table to her. Yeesha took it without comment, and studied the ink curiously. As she read, a slight line creased her forehead. She was, Nick decided, really rather lovely and her modest clothing seemed somehow to emphasize rather than to conceal her sexuality. He frowned as he studied her. He could appreciate the point, but it seemed to him that, despite Yeesha's near perfection of charms, she, like all women, held no interest for him. He didn't even feel a base instinct.

She said in a soft voice, as though hesitant to break his thoughts, "It's rather restrictive on Guardiana isn't it?"

"It is," he agreed, "but with Guardiana's attention diverted to this war, they won't care about that just now. Guardiana needs strong alliances now more than ever, and I'm offering one." If she had known what drivel he was thinking, she would have shouted.

"Guardiana may choose to fall back on Alterone." Her lively blue eyes were sparkling with something Nick did not recognize.

"Relations with Alterone are not ideal at the moment, and that is Guardiana's own fault. Suffice to say, they'll eagerly sign this now."

She shrugged. "In that case, what did you want to talk to me about?" Nick struggled to concentrate as he searched for an answer. Yeesha was making that difficult in some ways, though the fault lay not with her. He couldn't seem to prevent himself from being distracted by her physical beauty, though it held no particular sexual appeal to him personally. It seemed as though he was simply transfixed by such a perfect blending of elements; the cream white complexion, the artfully styled hair, the curve of her breast, the slope of her throat, the slimness of her shoulders…

Struggling manfully past these distracting works of art, Nick managed, "There are many points of political interest that have arisen over the past year that I have not been able to give sufficient attention to." His eyes were having difficulty moving away from her chest, so it was a relief when she began to reply and his gaze was drawn instead to her lips.

"Such as?" There was light amusement in her tone. Fighting his impulse to become immersed again, Nicholas forced himself to meet her gaze. It was only courteous after all. Her eyes revealed something he had never seen before, in any person's eyes. After a moment, he realized that he had seen it before, but only fleetingly. For some reason, Yeesha was reacting to him as a woman responded to another woman. Troubled by this, he looked away as he said, "There's Iom to be considered."

"Won't Warderer claim it once the war is done?"

"I don't think so. And in the event that he does, we can press the case of justice against him. Guardiana has more invested in Cypress after all." He mused aloud, "Annexing the lands of Iom has been a dream of some in Cypress for a long time, but it will be difficult to govern such lands without causing resentments to linger."

"To that end, you would need an Iomite. A _loyal _Iomite."

Nick turned to look at her again. His desire to become immersed in her beauty was still present, but he paid it no heed this time. Yeesha had taken no offense, and perhaps it would go away if he ignored it. "Ah. You've thought of Deanna as well."

"He'd be a logical choice, and he could govern Iom much as your Wardens govern various regions, could he not?" She added, "Besides, he's surrounded by people who were loyal to Cypress first."

Nick managed a smile. "I had reached that conclusion, yes. I'm glad to see that it's not such an irrational one." Yeesha smiled back at him. Nick jerked his eyes back up to meet hers, they'd been drifting down as he spoke. He still didn't understand what fascination she held for him if he didn't want her, but that was unimportant.

"In that case," he said loudly, as though to distract his eyes, "there remains one matter that concerns you personally. Civil war has decimated my people for a long time now, and marriage is one of the only ways I can shore up alliances that I already have. Though you hold no lands or riches or powers, you do have a place at court, and that alone qualifies you for this consideration. I confess, I had thought I might offer you to Lord Orr, as he still needs an heir, but if you prefer, Lord Deanna will need to be wed as well, and he closer to your own age…"

"I'm older than Deanna," Yeesha pointed out. She laughed lightly. "The look on your face just reminded me strongly of those old days at the castle. You always looked like that just when you were going to suggest that we play a game."

Nick scowled. "You're sidetracking the issue."

She smiled brightly. "Sorry. It was just so vivid… I always thought it was funny too. That you would look so calculating."

"Yeesha." He could not say why her comments were bothering him, yet, for some reason, they made him feel embarrassed. Weak.

She frowned suddenly. "I can see that I've troubled you." She stood, her robes draping loosely across her undeniably attractive body anew. "I didn't mean to do so. May I think on your suggestions?"

Nick said, "Certainly," all the while meaning to correct her familiarity. As she walked out, he spluttered. What had that been? She had begged leave of her king yes, but by rights, he should have dismissed her. How had she managed to be in control of the situation? Had it been the unimportant matter of his undefined fixation with her beauty that had done it? Nick couldn't understand.

With a sigh, he stood up, and paced about considering things. He would make Deanna his lord in Iom, not because he had any more love of the man than he ever had, but because Deanna had proved himself loyal. For that, Nicholas owed him reward. A king should be open-handed with his followers.

With a sigh, King Nicholas of Cypress poured himself a drink. By his reckoning, there was still time before he needed to meet Lord Max. He supposed he could be meeting Anri instead, but it would require more strength on his part to face Max. The queen could wait until he had dispensed of the true power in Guardiana. He poured himself a second drink.

Some time later, Lord Max stood before him. Nick studied this man whom he had both hated and admired. "Would you like some wine? An indifferent vintage, I fear."

"My thanks, but no." Nick could hear that same cold note of judgment in Max's voice that he had always heard there. It angered him.

_He has no right. _

"Has the Black Knight joined our cause?"

"Hindel. Yes."

"And you've sent Lemon on his way to Grans. Tell me, incidentally, was this commander of yours, this Luke, always so melancholy?" Nick knew he was jumping about a lot, but if Max was off-balance, he didn't show it.

"Hans betrayed us at Pao."

"Hans…" The name meant little to Nick. He couldn't even recall the features, though the name was certainly familiar. Max simply looked tired.

_Yes, _he thought. _That's the root of it. This Hans, his defection has wounded you. And it wounded your Luke worse. _

Nick finally said, "I want you to let me go back to Cypress."

Max was silent for what seemed to be a long time. "You can't be serious. We need you. Skull Castle is nearly fallen."

"Don't insult my intelligence. We both know that you have no need of me here. With all the strength of Rune at your back, you can take Skull Castle without my small band of warriors. If all the strength of Cypress was in my hands, you might have a point. It isn't however. That's why I have to go."

"Nick, I… you can't leave. Please don't make me let you leave."

_He is begging me. _

Nick understood why, however. For better or worse, some sort of a bond had grown between the two of them. Much of the time, it was a bond of mutual dislike, but somehow, they were connected.

He stood. "I have to take an active hand in taking back my country. My people need me, and yours don't. And it's time that I avenged Father."

Max sat there, tears visible in his eyes. Finally he said in a flat and cold voice, "Go." Nick hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand. Max clasped it for a bare second and King Nicholas II of Cypress strode out of his tent, taking his leave of Lord Max of Guardiana.

---

If the traitors of the Shining Force were wary, Mishalea couldn't read it in their faces, aside from the dwarf anyway. Ridion was much as Paezorta had always described him, elderly and cautious. The samurai, Mishalea didn't presently recall his name, was impressive enough, it was true. But it was Tao that drew her eye.

This mage of the Shining Force was the vital one of the three; she was clearly their leader. And she was the one who wanted to betray Max.

_Yes…_

Mishalea could see it in the shapes and lines that took form within Tao. The pretty face and delicate features, the small but shapely breasts… Tao was a vain woman to some degree and Max had wounded her pride. That was what this was about.

The Lady of Darkness glanced at her own companions. She had wished to have a favorable escort, and she at least had a large one. Geshp was already proving himself to be a shrewd choice, despite the fact that most of it was almost certainly insincere, he was acting the very soul of courtesy. Paezorta, conversely, seemed somewhat subdued. He had greeted Tao quietly and clapped Ridion on the shoulder, but aside from that, he was concentrating very steadily on studying his hands. Magus was sullen as well, tugging at the high collar that framed his face, already half in his cups. Still, she hadn't brought Magus for any reason other than to increase her entourage. And that left Nosshu.

"Ridion," said her human spy-master. "You look… well. It's been some time, hasn't it?"

The dwarf had a particularly ugly look, in truth. "Aye, that it 'as. Stripe me blind, didn't expect you'd 'ave the guts ter face me." He paused, as though for effect, and then roared, "Ha, c'mere, you!" He bounded up and seized Nosshu in an embrace. Mishalea might have been more impressed had she not made note of the calculating shade in Ridion's eyes.

Slowly a pall fell over the meeting. The others had finally noticed that Mishalea had not yet said a word. She gazed at Tao for a moment, looked up at the open sky, and then asked, "Would you tell me one thing, Lady Tao? Why did you not originally make your way to Skull Castle if you were willing to negotiate? Why opt for this senseless escape?"

Tao raised her eyebrows, a disdainful expression on her face. "Perhaps I wished not to suffer slow torture and execution?" She spoke as though explaining something to an unreasonable child.

"Death by slow torture was by no means a certainty. I would have protected you."

"Cellion was dragging us off for that purpose,_ then_, so that really doesn't make any…" The mage gasped, her eyes focusing with sharp understanding. "_Eiku_."

Mishalea could hear the wind whistling through her ears. The rage was slowly welling up within her. Why hadn't she remembered that Cellion had always been Eiku's man? She had been so blindly arrogant in her dealings with her own underlings… Barely keeping the fury from her demeanor, Mishalea managed, "I take it that you… that you have knowledge that might have embarrassed the High Commander?"

Tao leant forward, her eyes bright with speculation. "Oh yes, he would have been worried about that. So, somehow Eiku learned of Lynx's death before anyone else-"

"Cellion." The name was a rasp in her throat.

"Be that as it may, he learned of Lynx's death and then worked out a scheme wherein he could kill us and get away with it."

"'E woulda found some way ter blame it someone else," put in Ridion, his own sharp mind, obviously, easily keeping up with the scenario.

"Onto Lynx probably," Tao concluded. "Who couldn't defend himself once he was dead." An unpleasant little smirk played on her lips. "So… Skull Castle is hardly any different than Grans, which is famous for such intrigues."

Refusing to show her fury to this enemy over Eiku's duplicitous scheming, Mishalea said, "Regardless, all of this has led to this moment." She nodded at Geshp.

The plump devil went into the details with gusto. Tao, however, was not finished. "I want this much understood. We are forging true _peace_ here. If you have stipulations, then we shall offer counter-stipulations that must be honored, but in the end, if you will surrender the war, bend the knee…"

"We shall," replied Geshp. "If you give us Max."

There was a long silence as Geshp smilingly held out the document to be signed. The samurai moved first, abruptly scrawling a signature. His shoulders were rigid. Ridion did not take long in following him. Tao sat, staring at the proffered document. And sat, and sat, and sat. At long last, she stirred herself. When she had finished, there was no doubt in the gaze that fell upon Mishalea. "Done."


	47. Chapter 47: Investiture

Chapter 47:

Investiture

Cameela ate, though stonily. It was finally happening; the mighty Shining Force was marching upon Skull Castle in the hope of at last writing a bloody end to this war. To Skull Castle where Oddeye ruled with Mishalea.

_Good. I hope they kill him._

For herself, she didn't much care anymore. She was no one and nothing. The only point of reference that was still fixed in her life was Oddeye. She couldn't kill him herself, so, hopefully, the Shining Force would do it for her. She couldn't bear his existence any longer. If she was forced to, she might forgive him.

She picked moodily at her dried fish. Once this forced inaction would have grated upon her. It still did, but not so much. She didn't have anything to do with her life anymore, after all, so she might as well let the Shining Force shackle her. Much as she had resigned herself to this fate, however, she could not prevent some slight twinges of anger. Anger at herself mostly.

Abruptly, she pushed her food away. She _should_ have seen through Oddeye's lies. They had hardly been that good after all. Oddeye had been clever yes; he had played on her desire to have a reason to kill Geshp, he had played… Even to herself, she had tried not to admit it, but there it was. Oddeye had played on her desire to be loved.

That thought alone made her hotly angry all over again. She had not deserved what Oddeye had done to her. Even now, she couldn't completely divorce the voice in her heart though. Had everything Oddeye spoken of been feigned? He had been honest about the possibilities as went the assassination attempt. His advice there had been good. But surely… surely their alliance had rested on something more concrete than his lies? Oddeye was too cautious to base an entire alliance on a falsehood. But if that was the case then that meant… that meant that he had in some measure loved her. Or respected, trusted her.

Her lips quavered at the thought. _No,_ she thought resolutely. _Not again. I will not weep again._

As always though, her stern admonition was no good. Her eyes watered. She could not deny the vicious barbed truth; she was wounded. She was wounded because she'd been a fool.

That was when a familiar voice, full of patently insincere cheerfulness, rang out, "Why, General Cameela." She looked dully up at the approaching figure of Warderer of Iom. Cameela had already learned of his treason to Skull Castle, and she honestly didn't care. Nonetheless, she had no intention of entertaining his insults and insinuations. Pressing her lips firmly together, she turned to the side, resolved to ignore him.

"I must say you're looking so much better." She could visualize the broad smile that must be on his face. "When I first saw you, I confess that I was rather concerned. Why, you were crying my dear girl! Here, do tell your old Uncle Warderer all about it. Has some nasty man er… dishonored you?"

"Fuck off." Even as the words flew from her mouth, Cameela regretted them. Not because they were rude, but because it seemed she lacked even the basic strength to remain aloof to his barbs. And Warderer could tell he had found something.

"Ah, so that is it. Or something to that effect. My condolences."

"Don't even speak of this to me," growled Cameela, turning to face him. "You don't deserve to."

"On the contrary," smiled Warderer, impervious to the insult. "I know what it is to lose someone to Mishalea."

Her eyes narrowed. Warderer chuckled. "So, I'm right again, but you _still _won't give me specifics?" He pouted. "It really hurts me, the way nobody trusts me. Anyway, who could this person be? Let's see, mayhaps the Lord Oddeye who once served with you?"

"I have always," Cameela told him, "found your company unpleasant."

"Now that rather hurts my feelings. I thought that you might as well tell me why you did it. One traitor to another."

"I was loyal to Zeon, so I didn't-"

Warderer raised his brows. "Oh yes you did. Betray him, that is." Cameela was stunned into silence by the accusation. "You loved Oddeye, you loved honor better than you ever loved your king, didn't you? And you let him die, because you, a fool, loved too much." For once the sardonic gleam in his eye was gone, as was the mocking tone. He looked almost sad. "Did you ever… know sorcery, General? You can have no idea how seductive it is." He looked far into the distance, obviously remembering something. "I wouldn't have given up love, not even for that. And yet, somehow you're here now."

Cameela never knew what she might have said to that, because at that moment, Max's swordmaster nephew poked his head in the opening. "That's enough, Warderer."

"Now, really," he objected in an amiable tone, "you can't say that I've done anything wrong."

"I say that you can't speak to her any further. Cameela may be our enemy, but she deserves better than to have you smirking in her face just at the moment."

"Ian," he protested, "I sense that you're unhappy with me. It really breaks my heart."

"Go and mend your heart elsewhere, then." Warderer shrugged, offered Cameela a rueful grin, and ambled off. Cameela's eyes burned into his back as he retreated. The former king of Iom looked startlingly older than he had, the last time Cameela had seen him, some few weeks ago. As she watched him, Cameela decided that he had just given her a very good reason to live. She had no purpose in her life left, so she might as well decide to spite Warderer.

---

Max leaned against a table, swirling the drink in his hand. He was obviously contemplating something, but Mae wasn't certain what it was. Max very much kept his own counsel these days.

Finally he spoke, "There are a few things I want to tell you… in confidence, Mae. We can summon the others in a few minutes."

She studied him without speaking. She didn't trust herself to speak. She would hear what he had to say, and she would give him as loyal counsel as she could. It was what she had always done.

_It is all I have the strength to give him, and all that he has the courage to ask for. _

"You'll have heard that Hans betrayed us at Pao," he said. She nodded. Max sighed deeply, studying his drink. "Why… I couldn't… this has been hard for me," he admitted. "So many of my friends have died in this mess, but what Hans did cuts me far deeply than anything else." There was bewilderment in his voice. "Why would he do that?"

Mae considered for a moment. In truth, she remembered very little that she had ever liked about Hans, but the pain in Max's voice was obvious. She asked, "What did Luke say?"

"Luke blames himself. He won't speak to me of any specifics as to that however… all I know is that he rejects the appellation 'lord.' I can't say for certain, but I think they called Hans, sir. And he's adopted that."

"They were friends." Mae didn't know what else to say. She had never cared for Luke overmuch either, but she would have trusted him over Hans. The archer had been arrogant, frivolous, and vain. There wasn't much good in denying that, but she wouldn't break Max's heart by saying it either.

Max took a deep drink. "Yes, well. Kokichi's tale is rather sad as well. They were captured you know. The business in Rudo was a feint." His hand curled into a fist. "I'm told that Eiku himself slew Earnest. And Vankar died from a wound gone bad."

Mae hadn't heard, but it hadn't been hard to guess the truth. Only Kokichi had returned after all. "And his meeting with Warderer?"

"Pure coincidence." Max cradled his head, wearily. "Warderer. I think that I really hate that man, Mae. But I can't kill him. I need him." He shook his head in disgust, "Necessity makes monsters of us all."

Mae had nothing to say to that, but Max didn't seem to notice. Perhaps he just needed to say these things to something, somebody. A wall. That was all she was to him. But she had made herself what she was.

"At any rate, there is one piece of uplifting news. Earlier, it would have meant everything. As it is, it still means something. Hindel tells me that he has been working with an ally of ours within Skull Castle for a long time now."

"You mean this Kalvar that Gong knows of?"

He shook his head. "Not Kalvar. Jogurt."

Mae's mind reeled. "You mean to say… Jogurt did not in fact die? He survived… as Nick suggested that he could have."

"Hindel found him. Saved him. He says that Jogurt tried to kill Eiku once, but the attempt went wrong." Max laughed, though there was no mirth in the outburst. "It's funny don't you think? This should over joy me, but it doesn't." He was silent for a long while then.

"There is one other point," said Mae, "that I was reluctant to bring up in the hearing of the others. But as it is, I wonder in your wisdom at dismissing this revelation about Deanna."

"I didn't _dismiss_ it," Max said testily.

"Really? It looked curiously that way to me, I must confess. And I understand what we owe him… but gods be good, Max. He served Warderer."

"You can hardly be objecting to Deanna if you've accepted our alliance with Warderer, so I rather fail to see your point."

"That doesn't stop it from being worth spending some time on. You kept that last meeting at such a brisk pace that nobody had any time to think about Deanna. What I would know is, why?"

"Deanna's served me well. I won't condemn him for being born an Iomite."

"You would condemn anyone for serving Mishalea, but not Warderer, is that the way of it?"

Max's eyes were cold. "I condemn Eiku because the man is a butcher and a murdering schemer. I condemn Slit because he's a savage brute with a taste for blood. I condemn Magus for the crimes he committed in Alterone."

"Deanna might well have done any of those sorts of things at Warderer's command."

"Somehow," replied Max, "I doubt that. He's irked me as well, and yet, he manages to always win his point against me regardless of whatever I originally wanted."

"You are a less brutal lord than Warderer ever has been. He would have easily ordered Deanna to do things that you never would. And he would have made Deanna obey."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. There was a strained pause and then Max said firmly, "I will not condemn Deanna for his birth." He added in a softer tone, "Nor will I condemn him for serving the country of his birth for his brother. I had a brother too, once." He sat there, looking at her, less a lord now than a man who has made a confession.

Mae's throat felt raw. He hadn't meant it cruelly, but he had just thrown Kane in her face as she had once done to Max herself. That was why Max would never be able to love her of course. Mae finally prompted, "And, then? The war?"

"Ah yes." He smiled, though there was a bitter edge to the expression. "As you know, I've let Nicholas go to free Cypress. Deanna has gone with him. We still have sufficient strength to take Skull Castle, however."

That reminded Mae of one detail that had been bothering her. "What of Otrant? I know he faced a Vandal, but I still admit to my surprise. I really didn't think that anything could kill him."

Max steepled his fingers, his eyes far away. "I was a little surprised too, but before we began the march, Otrant spoke as though he wasn't expecting to survive. I suppose I didn't quite believe that. You know? He made me swear that Arthur will reign in Manarina after him."

"Arthur? But he's not even of Manarina."

"He's picked up magic somehow. I admit, he would not have been my choice, but I went ahead and agreed. Otrant was an ally if nothing else."

Mae shrugged. "Very well. You have a plan then?"

His lips twitched into something resembling a smile. "Thanks to the time in which I enjoyed Mishalea's hospitality, I know just what we're assaulting. Skull Castle has many levels, and Mishalea will deploy such forces as she has to defend differing levels. We'll have to do the same. Jarl can take one group, Torl another. I'll take one myself, and, as we are needed, I'll spread other commanders about."

"Mishalea will have the castle warded with magic. How do you plan to keep her distracted while Warderer sees to that?"

"I'm going to assume that she doesn't know Warderer's joined us. When we move for the final attack, I'll have our force of mages blasting energy all over the place. With such a wide-scale assault, we give up the surprise, but it will disturb Mishalea's senses. With any luck, she won't notice Warderer for the first vital minutes, and by then it will be too late." He paused. "I'll also deploy Hindel to see to the undead that are apparently patrolling Skull Castle's walls."

Mae considered for a few moments. "It's a good plan," she conceded at last, "but it lacks certainty. Mishalea has coiled all of her strength back now, that we're encircling her stronghold. It will be a bloody battle."

"It always was going to be," he said. "We don't have the time for a long siege, and if we tried that, Mishalea would think of something. It's dangerous now, but Mishalea will be most vulnerable if she's forced to move according to our schedule rather than we to hers." He stood again, looking every inch the proud lord that he had become. "Call for the council Mae. We'll hammer out the details and begin the assault within the next two or three days."

She was half-way out the tent when he suddenly called, "Oh, I almost forgot."

"My lord?"

"There is one other piece of good news." Max looked well satisfied. "I have it on very good authority," he informed her, "that High Commander Eiku is going to be betrayed."

---

"_Damn Max_!" howled Mishalea, throwing a goblet of wine at the wall. Breathing heavily, she turned her hot gaze upon her councilors. "You mean to tell me that he's already surrounded us? With his main strength?" To be sure, she was still counting on the treason of Tao, but she had hoped for a bit more time than this.

Geshp volunteered cautiously, "Such would seem to be the case, milady."

_Damn Geshp. Damn his smirking courtesy. Damn Geshp, damn Lynx, damn Eiku, and DAMN Max. _

"Leave me," she commanded. As her councilors shuffled out of the room, she took a deep, steadying breath. Never had it been so vital that Mishalea keep her cold rationality, and never had it been so difficult to find before.

Max was always grave tidings, but she had other concerns as well that had her nearly as worried. Warderer had simply, unaccountably vanished. It made Mishalea nervous. Warderer never vanished unless he wanted to, and if he wanted to… Knowing that she'd have to kill him anyway had prompted her to offer his crown to his most prestigious remaining military officer, Ravel.

Ravel had accepted, and that put the armies of Iom steadily in Mishalea's hands… providing that none of them would rise for Warderer should the mad king return. The uncertainty of it was horribly galling. Even worse, Rilix had also vanished. Mishalea had sent her Vandal ally into the field to find out about Warderer, and now the crone was gone.

Mishalea could still _feel_ her power. She could feel both of them. But she didn't know what had happened to either. It was no small wonder that she was in a perpetual bad temper these days. It was all Max's fault.

Sullenly drinking wine straight from the flagon, she gave herself fully to her hatred for this single foe. She didn't know what it was that he had that made him different than any of the other enemies she had ever had to outmaneuver, but it was something. She had stopped wondering about that though.

_Why do I inspire nothing but bloody betrayal?_

Life was full of disappointments. Only the strong survived. _Only the heart of stone wins in the end._ So long ago her own blood, Mephisto, had betrayed her. Lynx had failed her, Eiku had plotted around her, Geshp would sell her in a heartbeat if it would further his ambitions… and long before any of them, Warderer. It all flowed from Warderer.

"You ought to thank me," she informed the air. "Hating me gave you the will to develop your talent."

She didn't know where Warderer's voice came from, but she could hear it nonetheless. "Surely there is something less boring than power to apply myself to."

"You can either be one of us or one of them," she reminded him. "You are one of us. But you lack focus. Mephisto doesn't have your brilliance, but at least he focuses! If there comes a time when you are ready to apply yourself, then and only then will I welcome you."

She felt almost jealous as she thought about it. Warderer's bright, shining talents had been a joy to mold. Iom had never deserved that kind of power. If only Warderer hadn't let himself wax sentimental about that woman, all would be fine. Warderer could have been, should have been, her heir, but destiny had intervened and he had spent the better part of his life trying to kill her.

That was what made her better than Warderer, made her better than all of them. She never allowed her passions to get the better of her. Except… _Max…_ She sighed, shifting uneasily. Yes, it was Max who had disturbed her comfortable rationality. It was Max who had paved the way for all of these treasons against her. They would surely never have happened if she had been able to keep her logic. Yes, life was full of disappointments. Only the heart of stone survived.

"Kisaragi," she slurred.

The woman appeared from the thin air as she usually did. Mishalea studied her critically. She really was a pretty woman, but her charms were too obvious. She would never be as desirable as someone with more subtle features. "I want you," she said, thinking aloud, "to infiltrate the Shining Force."

A smile curved Kisaragi's lush lips. "Ah. You've decided to have me kill Max."

"No! Not Max. Ian. His pestilential nephew. Swordmaster." Even as she said it, Mishalea sensed that something was wrong. Why had she refused Kisaragi's offer? It was surer than gambling on Tao, wasn't it? But she wanted Tao to be the one to deliver Max. She wanted that very much. Mishalea wasn't certain quite what it would prove, but she thought it would prove something.

Kisaragi studied her without expression. Finally she said, "As you command, Lady of Darkness." She offered one of those bright smiles that came so naturally to her features, and then she was gone.

Mishalea rose to her feet, pacing about the shrine. She stood before the great statue of Lord Darksol, her hands clasped together at her waist. "I killed him," she said. "I killed Zeon for you and still you do not answer. I cast the first binding off. Yet it's Max isn't it? It's Max you need."

Max, the harbinger of doom. Mishalea had always been certain of her path, but Max had resisted _everything_ she had thrown at him. And now he had marched on Skull Castle… An irrational fear took hold of her. Mishalea had been in bleak positions before, but this…

Slowly Mishalea nodded her head. It was an idea she had resisted, but that was at the root of this. She was afraid.

---

He had once been a weak thing, it seemed to Death Woldol. Even now, he barely remembered the life that he had once tasted, once _savored_. He recalled vaguely enough that he had placed great emphasis on the pleasures of the flesh, but, after all, what was that?

A harmless enough pastime, he supposed, but it seemed strange to him that he, who now saw so clearly, should once have been so very weak. But then, his mind was wandering.

Death Woldol had watched the scurrying lords of evil with something very close to complete indifference. Not quite indifference, for that would not have been prudent. Had any of them ever gained a true inkling of what his goal was, they might have chosen to fight him.

Indeed, he had been most pleased when not only Bazoo, but Gepple and Frabell as well, had begun plotting. Their antics had served as a wonderful distraction for any who might have been interested in Death Woldol personally. For the rest of it, he had watched Frabell's fall from grace without resentment. Gepple was the same. Those whom he might have used served him well in this, after all. The wheel would turn again and again, and next, no doubt, Bazoo would fall. And perhaps Edmond.

Death Woldol didn't care. The Demon Gate was very nearly open; all he required now was the proper blood. And the only thing that could stop him at this late point was the blade that the leader of the Shining Force wielded. The Chaos Breaker. And that was where Dantom came in.

---

Slit slowly circled around the barracks room, glaring suspiciously at every man that he saw. It was true, he was deeply disappointed. He, Slit, had been betrayed by his own men. They had all of them worked around his orders… all of them had told the Lady falsehoods as to his great deeds. Well, Slit would not suffer that. He would not.

He had taken advantage of Mishalea's brief absence from Skull Castle to order executions of his treacherous officers en masse. And yet, the new Chief Gaoler had defied his commands until Slit had killed him; to prove his point, to be sure. He had replaced his unfaithful officers with good, loyal lizardmen. Save Kre'sar alone.

He quickened his pace, enjoying the sound of his claws scratching against the floor. Kre'sar was half-mad, Slit did not deny, but he was loyal. He had been the only one to stand by Slit's decisions out on the front. Loyalty was most important. He paused for a moment at the entry way, running his heavy claws across his scales. Feeling slightly ill at ease, he turned then, into the shrine.

Under different circumstances, Slit would have been much more than merely outraged at this situation. Under different circumstances, however, Slit would not be taking wine with the Lady of Darkness.

He lapped at his drink cautiously with his long tongue, as he peered at her. Mishalea looked awful, truth be told. Her robes were discolored and spotted, her hair a tangled mess. She looked as though she hadn't slept in a week. It was not Slit's business to inform of that though, so he held his silence.

She began at last, so soft, so quiet. "My condolences for the wound to your tail."

He shifted uncomfortably. Before High Commander Eiku, he might have spoken his mind, but this was Lady Mishalea. Slit was not so stupid to speak unless he had to. She asked abruptly, "Why did you retreat from the field, General?"

His mouth dry, despite the wine lapping at it, he croaked, "It vas a trap, milady. Sey hoped to deceive me and crush our forces against se rocks. I sought it best to preserve vat vas left of our strength."

Her hands were clapped together and her eyes were hard. "Some might call what you did treason. Had you attacked the Shining Force whilst they were still battling General Cameela, they might well be defeated by now."

The scales on Slit's neck began to itch. When Cameela had high-handedly tried to issue her foolish ultimatums to him, Slit had not been worried. Mishalea was much deadlier though. He said, "Lies. It vas se traitors in my forces who have spread sis disgusting slander."

She snapped, "Don't prate your justice to me, lizardman. It was a farce as we both well know. Were the circumstances different, I'd be inclined to take off your head. As it is…" She paused for a moment, letting the implication dangle. "I want you to tell me, _what happened at Cellion's border fort_?"

Slit gaped at her. He remembered now, though he'd forgotten. Lord Eiku had raised him high after he had proved his loyalty then, but if Mishalea was reopening the investigation…

"Ve captured a man," he admitted sullenly. "After our original prisoners escaped."

"_What_ man?"

"He vas a swordmaster," Slit replied sulkily. "He carried a Parmecian sword." He leant forward, praying silently that this was the right move. "Ve took him at Cellion's command. Cellion gave all the orders. Cellion let se man go."

"But Eiku made the decision, yes?" Her eyes glittered coldly as she asked the question.

"No." Slit didn't even stop to ask himself if he should tell the lie, why he ever should. He added, "Cellion made all of se decisions personally. He hoped to curry favor."

Mishalea raised one thin eyebrow. "I see," she said in a tone that suggested she took his words well-salted. She studied Slit coldly, clearly weighing him.

The lizardman shifted, uneasy. He did not like being weighed. She said abruptly, "How would you like a promotion, Slit?" He sputtered at her. She smiled slightly. "You'll even have to earn this one, though. It should be a novel experience for you."

His face darkened at the slight, but Slit was not a stupid man. Hot-tempered though he was, he knew that if Mishalea meant to kill him, she already would have done so. He asked hoarsely, "And vat do you vant me to do, milady?"

"Ah. Two things. You can arrange an escort… and give them their orders."

---

Ian watched from his carefully hidden spot. The Shining Force had rapidly expanded its control of the general territory surrounding Skull Castle, but Mishalea still sent out patrols. It was this fact that he was ready to exploit.

A slight wind played with the top of his hair. Ian closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of blossoms. Rune truly was a beautiful country. He could understand how his uncle had come to love it. With a sigh, he snapped his eyes open, glancing back over his shoulder. They were all concealed in different spots, waiting. He turned his gaze to the slowly darkening sky. It looked as though a wound had opened in the heavens this evening.

_How apt. _

At that moment, Ian heard the horn sound, and he leant forward with interest. There sure enough came Mishalea's mounted patrol. Twenty soldiers. And at the center… Eiku. Ian would never forget his sneering face, and he had insisted to his uncle that he be one to deal with Eiku.

The enmity between the two of them ran deep at this point, and not just because Ian had played the commander for a fool. Ian would never forget, never forgive, and certainly never recover from what men like Eiku had done to Grans. And he would not let the commander's bloody vengeance fall on Rune. Still, he mused, Eiku was obviously a resourceful man. It had gotten him where he was today, after all, High Commander of Skull Castle.

It still seemed incredible to Ian. Here was the one man whose protection should be second only to the High Captain, and yet he was about to be betrayed. Politics had always bewildered Ian. Doubtless somebody who saw Mishalea's ship sinking had decided that it would look better for Eiku to be taken in combat rather than facing eventual charges for his crimes. It seemed too easy. That had been the other reason that he had fiercely insisted on being the one to take Eiku.

And yet, even as he looked on, as the soldiers reached the pre-determined spot, they suddenly wheeled around and galloped back in towards Skull Castle. Ian led his small group forward then as High Commander Eiku stood, facing the running soldiers screaming threats and insults.

As Ian drew within twenty meters of the man, Eiku turned, breathing heavily. He immediately started reaching for his sword, and then stopped, obviously thinking better of it. He was surrounded after all. Still, there was no mistaking the flash of recognition or of hatred in his eyes as he looked at Ian. The swordmaster's lips twitched, sardonic; a man with a Parmecian sword would be hard to forget in Rune.

_Ah, but you and I have danced this dance before, Commander. _

"Commander," Ian called out lightly.

Turning steadily redder and redder, Eiku finally heaved, "_Trap._" His breath came harshly and noisily. Ian nodded modestly. "Did you," Eiku began, but as he struggled for words, Ian could see him putting the pieces together. He was palpably trying to pull his wits together. "_Mishalea_," he said at last. "The council." For a moment, his face crumbled, but then his fists were clenched, his face and voice thick with rage. "I _told_ them I needed more men! I _told _them I needed more money! I told them… but this… why?" The whine in his voice was pathetic.

"I imagine that your superiors found your indiscretions somewhat embarrassing, Commander." He added chidingly, "You oughtn't to have gotten so creative."

For a moment Eiku seemed choked in rage, but then he snarled, "Paezorta's a _fool_! Lynx was a _coward_! But I," he went on heatedly-

"And you," Ian cut in without sympathy, "are a liar. Commander."

His eyes glittered with hatred. "A strange accusation for you to make. Although you did well at Skull Castle, I'll grant you." He went on in a voice full of contempt, "So what are you going to do now? Kill me?"

"It would be most convenient," Ian admitted, "but Max wants to question you himself." In truth, all of the Shining Force was gathered here, though most were still hidden about. That was none of Eiku's business though.

"Ah yes," sneered the commander. "The dog defending its master. You, a swordmaster, serving that peasant."

Ian ignored the clumsy insult; anyone who actually knew his uncle could see it for the laughable and pathetic attempt that it was. So he only said, "That's right."

A frown creased Eiku's features. "I don't understand you." He took a step forward. "Why? Why did you do it? Tell me. You owe me that much, before presenting me to your vaunted leader. _Why_?"

Ian was rapidly growing bored. "Why what, precisely, Commander?"

He took another step forward, holding Ian's gaze. "By all the gods above and below, you're a swordmaster! You could have gone anywhere, made anything of your life. You could have become a king, a great warlord. You could have had it all. Why serve one rebellious peasant trying to topple the greatest empire this world has ever known?"

Ian arched a brow. "Because I'm one too. Oh, and a full-blooded Granserian, you might be interested to know."

Eiku brushed aside the jibe, stepping directly up to Ian, his hot breath fanning Ian's face, his voice nearly plaintive. "I'd have kept my promise. Doubled your gold. Made you my right arm."

"I didn't want to be your right ar-"

"I could have given you all! I could have made you rich!"

"You couldn't have given me the blood back. You couldn't have made me free."

"Free?" screeched Eiku. "Free?" He seized Ian's shirt, ignoring the warning shouts of the others, "You were at perfect liberty. You could have been, should have been! I offered you all!" He began gibbering incoherently, "And how dare you play the noble with me? You're no different, you've killed! You've killed lots of people!"

"The difference," Ian said coldly, "is that I do not kill children. Or old men or women." He shook Eiku's grasping hand off. "And anyway, I think that that's enough, Command-" He cut off, in a burst of pain.

He had never even seen it coming, and now he stared in shock at the dagger protruding from his side. Eiku in the meantime was roaring, "Disarm now, all of you! On your knees."

Swaying in pain, Ian could see the doubt in their faces, the doubt caused by the destruction of a man they had always viewed as invincible. His tongue felt clumsy in his mouth. "Kill him," he rasped.

Eiku twisted the dagger a little. "Surrender or I'll kill him now!" That same tone which had doubtless commanded so many of Mishalea's legions was starting to have its desired effect on these warriors of the Shining Force.

"Kill him," Ian insisted. There was just one possible chance. Ian took it, suddenly throwing his weight sharply at the commander. Ignoring the scream of protest in his side, he jerked his forearm upright, hitting Eiku in the chin and simultaneously unsheathing his sword.

Eiku was fast though, pulling at the dagger as he stumbled and sending a frantic slash at Ian. By that point though, Ian's arm was in the way of anything Eiku might have done, and swordmasters were trained to ignore such negligible wounds. In one sweeping motion, Ian drew his sword across High Commander Eiku's torso and then, as the soldier doubled over, he brought the blade up and sharply down, decapitating his foe.

As Eiku fell lifeless to the ground, Ian took one wavering step forward before collapsing to his knees. Darkness was pooling around him, blocking out the bloody sky above. He didn't even notice that he hit the ground. A voice said distantly, "Ian?"

"Nev…" he gasped. Eiku should never have tried to get the best of him. The commander had known what a swordmaster was, after all. He tried to say it again, but the words would not come.

Uncle Max would weep, he realized vaguely. Very sentimental Uncle Max. For Ian though… well Ian had to laugh. To think, he'd been killed by one aging commander in a moment of carelessness.

A weak chuckle burst from his lips, and then Ian gave himself to the darkness.


	48. Chapter 48: Sweet Cypress

Chapter 48:

Sweet Cypress

Nick had spent the entire voyage, plotting, planning, and consulting. He was confident now that his bold plans would be enough to reclaim Cypress, but there were still a handful of pressing concerns to be dealt with first.

He turned to Deanna, studying the man who had offered to come with him, an offer that Nicholas had accepted. Nick was hardly blind; he could see well enough that if Deanna really was the traitor, this was an obvious ploy. He could also see that he had no hope whatsoever of defeating Uglu without the few extra men that Deanna brought with him.

"And now," said Nicholas, "you will tell me why. All of it. I have gone to the trouble of keeping your secret from your own men, so if you fear that, you need not have it concern you."

"I thought… I thought that I had told you."

Nicholas waved an abrupt hand. "I'm not interested in your gibberish about serving Warderer, the _why_ of that was always obvious. No, I meant why serve me?"

For once, Nicholas could see doubt in the other man's eyes. He said slowly, "Because of many things. I had to for my own survival. I had to for, Natasha, Dawn, even Eric…" He looked very directly at Nick then. "And, let me be honest, I had to do it because Warderer was an appalling king. His vendetta against Mishalea and his taste for power was driving Iom into howling barbarism. He turned a prosperous enough country into a theocracy. I lacked the strength to betray Warderer myself and I loved Hindel too much to betray him. But what you have to understand was that when _I_ was betrayed… Well, I no longer had any of these inhibitions."

"You speak with fervor." Nick wasn't a stranger to certain sorts of fervor, but this particular kettle was of an unusual color to him. Objectively, it was useful to him, but Nicholas simply couldn't imagine belonging to a country that he couldn't be proud of.

"If I've said anything profound, it's no more than the simple truth." Deanna paused for a moment and then added, "Simple truths often are profound, of course."

"Very well," replied Nick. "I accept your explanation. In that case, we have some other matters to discuss." Gazing out into the murky waters of the harbor he said, "As we both know, victory in this means that Iom will be absorbed by Cypress. You have chosen to support this course, in lieu of supporting a man who might have kept Iom solvent." He turned his gaze back to Deanna. "That honestly doesn't trouble you?"

"Better for Iom to live under your rule, Your Grace, than to continue under Warderer's. You are a just man."

Nick blinked, startled, not so much by the comment, but rather, by how much it pleased him. He didn't require compliments, the service was his duty. And yet, it did please him. "Be that as it may. Iom will need a strong hand, and I will need a loyal lord to rule it. It would also be advantageous if the ruler was not seen to be Cyprian."

Deanna's mouth twitched. "In other words, you want me."

"Yes." The monosyllable fell like silence. Nick swiftly banished the doubts that plagued him about this course of action.

"Please don't… don't ask me to rule."

"On what grounds do you object?" Giving Deanna no time to frame a response, he continued, "You will make a fine lord. You are sensible, modest, sober, prudent…" Grudging every word, Nick added, "You've proven that you're cleverer than most and that you're no coward. In times of conflict, you can fight and you can strategize. You can _lead_. I need all of that. And if you do not take Iom, then feelings of resentment are more likely to fester between Iom and Cypress. I would not see things come to that."

"I don't have any friends in Iom." It was a weak protest and Nick could see that Deanna knew that it was.

"Not even Hindel?"

His mouth twitched again, as though he'd been slapped. Deanna sank to his knees, "Your Grace, I am your loyal man. But I cannot…"

_He is objecting out of conscience. _

"There is none other." Nicholas leant forward then. "And believe me, if you will not take this lordship in Iom then I will gladly let it fall into ruin. I will tax it more highly than any other region under my dominion, I will look to it with indifference and should Iom dare rise against me, I will smash it beneath my heel." Even as he spoke, he could hear the lack of emotion in his voice; feel the lack of emotion on his face. "Pray think on that, before you refuse, Deanna."

With that, the king of Cypress turned away. He was confident that Deanna would have bent the knee in the end, regardless, but the threat would make sure. It was either that, or going back to Warderer after all. Walking briskly, Nick joined the three that he had asked to join him for a discussion of strategy. Claude, Ruce, and Mayfair.

"Well then, shall we begin?" He rubbed his hands together. "Tell me, Claude, how swiftly do you believe that you could get a message to the Freedom Fighters?"

"Within the hour, I should say, sire. If there's any truth to the rumors hereabout, Gyan now holds the fort of Lord Erryk Stire."

Nick raised his eyebrows, pleased. "Truly? Very well, you are to make your way there immediately and to request some additional forces from Gyan. These shall be allocated to Ruce." He allowed himself a brief smile for the rumors were excellent. It was just as well that Lord Stire was removed from the field; he would have been a difficult foe.

"Just a minute," objected Mayfair. "You can hardly mean to risk contact now, if you resisted all the way-"

He cut her off. "An understandable doubt. The difference is that we are now in Cypress. Had Uglu learned of my voyage, we would be fighting in this harbor now. The fact that we are here means that some risks have to be taken." Turning his back to Mayfair for a moment he said, "I also understand that after a lifetime of caution, Dava's presence is not a secret. Tell Gyan he is to lend you some forces so that Ruce may go and strike at her base of power." He paused for a split second, contemplating the leap ahead of him now. "Also, Ruce you are to take Natasha and Apis with you. Claude as well."

He smiled for a moment, contemplating his plan. It was as good a one he could have under the circumstances, but even better, he was certain that if Deanna was inclined to be recalcitrant… well he would see the message in this.

"Even so, Nick." Mayfair's tone was incredulous. "Unless you rally most of Gyan's forces at once, you can't expect to be ready within the hour for an assault on Castle Cypress itself."

He took a deep breath. Nicholas had hoped to avoid this measure for a few minutes longer, but Mayfair would not be quieted. Willful, yes, but it was in its way, quite charming. With that thought firmly reinforcing his course of action, Nick turned to her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Mayfair," he said quietly. "I would not be contemplating this if I did not believe that I had all of the pieces arranged as best as I can." His hand tightened on her shoulder. "But there is one thing more. Be my queen, Mayfair."

He fought off the urge to smile, it would insult the seriousness of the moment, and it would show Mayfair a sign of weakness. It wasn't that he was weak, but she could not be allowed to have even the slightest doubt on that. On the whole though, Nick was pleased with how he had handled this. He had kept his voice soft so that only the two of them could hear the particulars, but he had also approached her in public for a reason. Mayfair would not insult or humiliate her king under such situations.

Yes, he supposed she might be a little flustered, or that she would accept with bad grace, but Nick knew that she really had no ground on which to object, and so he was prepared for any such reactions, ready to offer her an escape route should her own poise fail.

Mayfair's eyes flashed however, and her palm suddenly met his cheek with stinging force. Nick stood there for a moment, feeling color rising in his cheeks; feeling the eyes of everyone else riveted by the spectacle of Mayfair defying her king.

She said in a voice as quiet as his, though full of anger, "Stop it Nick. I see what you're trying to do here, and it's nothing less than reprehensible. You can't pressure me into this by threatening me with humiliation!"

More stung than he would have cared to admit, Nick snapped, "I did not threaten you." He shook his head. "Mayfair, I need…" He had to stop himself at that. It wasn't accurate enough. It would not have been fair to go to such an extreme anyway. The thought alone was a moment of weakness.

Something in her stance softened as she watched him. "Nick you…" she gestured helplessly. "You're not really… Why would you want to marry me, anyway, Nick?"

_I killed Chu Rao for you,_ he might have said. But that too would have been a lie. He had killed Chu Rao for justice. It all flowed from justice. His jaw worked silently for a moment as he struggled for words.

"Mayfair," he whispered. "What you have to understand is that without you, I cannot always be there for the throne. Cypress must continue, and you…" His voice shook as he tried to articulate the importance of his vision to her. "You are perfect. The symbolic power that you have and the raw skills and the love with which you respond to the people and the intelligence and the abilities that you have shown and the… the…"

His voice trailed off and she looked at him, a line creasing her forehead. "You're saying two different things," she told him. "And I don't know which one to listen to. There are your words, and there is your voice"

_She is balking me_, he realized with resentment. Nobody had ever balked his uncle. Nobody had ever refused the Usurper. Nick realized that his hands were clenched. What had Edmond had that Nick did not?

"You _can't_ refuse me," he said desperately. He was begging her he realized, and, most appallingly of all, he didn't care.

She bit her lip. "If that's what this is about… then yes I can."

He took half a step backwards, trembling, his jaw working furiously. He could hear his own breath, harsh and jagged. It was Warderer and Max. Because he had been under Lord Max's power back in Rune he had let Warderer live, he had done the expedient thing…

_Weak. She thinks me weak. But I am just, just, aye and strong. Stone. I must be stone. _

"In that case," he said loudly, "we must plan for the battles ahead." He had reached for his king's voice and he had found it, flat and uncaring. Even as he tried to step away, Mayfair's eyes struck him, warm pools that were full of sympathy and a little of something else. There wasn't any anger there anymore, but that was, Nicholas realized, even worse.

Ruce approached the two of them cautiously. "Nick," he began, "I think you should..." He hesitated searching for the right words.

Nick took that opportunity. "You will go and do your duty. Take Apis and Natasha with you, as I said."

The dwarf stood there for a moment, something suspiciously like pity in his bearing. Finally he muttered, "If that's what you want."

Nicholas of Cypress suddenly realized that there was laughter behind every solemn face there, all of it directed at him. How did he look to them, with the fading color in his cheeks? His hands clenched again.

_Just say it! Send her too… _

"The rest will come with me," he declared in tones of iron. "Dawn, Deanna, and Mayfair will act as commanders as needed." Nicholas turned his back deliberately then, furious with himself for not heeding his inner feeling to send Mayfair with Ruce, furious with the others for laughing at him.

_They all think me weak._

But one thing was certain. He could remember not to trust his inner feelings without careful consideration; inner feelings would come and they would go. And so Nicholas brushed off his regrets. He had come to be a king.

---

"This is incredible," murmured Dava, though she was far from displeased.

"By my lights, it was you who started this." The muttered complaint came from her right. Dava turned to face Uglu, now the king of Cypress and Iom.

Her news to him had startled Uglu enough that he had held back from the march long enough to ascertain his own particulars from the continent. What he had learned, evidently, had convinced him that Warderer had indeed betrayed Iom. Dava didn't care. She had seized the moment and eagerly raised a cry that Uglu king himself. It had been Vensic's support that had ultimately swayed Uglu though, and so he stood before her now, reluctantly crowned, uncomfortable with the new station.

She merely raised her eyebrows. "I, my lord?"

"Yes, you," snapped the new king of Iom. "My lady might recall that I was prepared to deal with these Freedom Fighters, but now…"

"Will this be any bloodier than your original plan would have been?" His anger was obvious; she had forestalled his march by telling him the truth. And now the Freedom Fighters had seized the opportunity.

Uglu glowered at her, but before he could answer, Vensic cut in with a jubilant voice. "Friends, what are we quarreling about? Here we have the answer to a troubling problem." He smiled disarmingly. "We hold the position of true strength now."

Standing there on the high battlements of Castle Cypress, Dava knew that it was true. She squinted down at the forces of the Freedom Fighter which had, against all expectation, launched an attack at Castle Cypress. "They seem to be a bit more numerous than I'd heard," she remarked.

Uglu ground his teeth. "Doubtless those are the forces of Lord Erryk that preferred treason over death." He too looked down before muttering, "It's all wrong. This Gyan, he's shown himself to be a crafty opponent, and yet this? There's no purpose to it."

Vensic smiled again. "Gyan knows that he cannot win, Your Grace. He's seeking a death that has honor in it." Uglu mulled over the suggestion in silence. Vensic offered, "Now that he's here, though, we can smash him. We command the high ground, here, there's nothing easier than to use it. We could also send a small but skilled force down to hold the moat. If, perchance, Gyan does break through our defenses, he'll bloody himself against those walls. And if in the meantime, Lady Dava has her own forces pull up to take him in the rear…"

"No," said Uglu abruptly.

"My… Your Grace?"

"No," he repeated. His voice was hard, iron. "Gyan has been in worse circumstances without doing something so heedlessly rash. There is a purpose here, and one that we will not learn if we commence with typical warfare."

Vensic colored. "All the more reason to strike him down quickly."

"Use your brains, Vensic. Gyan knows this place as well as you do. If we try your methods, he'll fall back and we'll lose our chance. We have to strike offensively." He added in tones of iron, "We hold the moat, it can be done."

Vensic sputtered, "But the… the costs, the… the…"

Uglu glanced at him with contempt. "You put a crown on my head. You will obey me. Not to worry though, I'll lead the attack myself. You can hold these walls."

He turned back to studying the army below, his jaw jutting out. Dava followed his example. A moment later her eyes lighted on the important figure; clearly tall and strongly muscled, dressed in elaborate, bulky armor that sparkled in the sunlight. It could only be Gyan himself.

She regretted that she could not immediately send a spirit after him, but it would be no good. The Freedom Fighters would not die with Gyan, no more than they had with King Nicholas I. And if it came to that, it occasionally troubled her that Warderer had evidently survived the spirit she had sent after him.

Still, she could support Uglu in this measure, and for once, he was almost certainly right and that was all that really mat…

She gasped in shock at the sudden violation of her bond. She could feel the pain, something tearing at Baron, the Greater Spirit, trying to remove him from her grasp. She didn't need a moment to sort out the implications; _the quarry had been attacked. _

Uglu was giving some sort of orders to Vensic, but Dava barely heard. There were suddenly much larger concerns at stake.

---

The spirit had been slow to respond, but deadly once he had. With little puffs of breath that manifested themselves as energy, it was fast destroying Ruce's forces. The dwarf ducked low, running forward, successfully cutting one of the enemy soldiers down.

He risked a swift glance around the quarry. What he saw was not disheartening. The spirit did not seem to have many troops, but with the spirit's own powers and deadly accuracy, it didn't really need many.

He heard the sound of an approaching foe too late, and turned, but the blade already bit into his chain mail, crunching the hard metal against his hip. Stumbling backwards, Ruce made use of his short stature, sending a cut directly against his enemy's legs.

Breathing heavily, the dwarf forced himself forward against the shock of wetness and pain in his leg. It was very bad. Still, Ruce had one, negligible chance. His eye rested on the smooth surface of some sort of gem that was being excavated here. It was evidently worth protecting…

His head was a whirl of pain, and his fingers sweaty on his axe. He was hesitating. Though brave, Ruce did not want to die… He found himself reflecting on his king, Nicholas II.

_All that I do, I do for Nick,_ he reminded himself. _And all that Nick does, he does for Cypress. _

Unlike so many of the others, Ruce had stayed loyal to Nick out of a genuine affection for the man that he had grown to be. The dwarf wasn't blind to Nick's flaws. He was certain, hard, unyielding, and just past the point of sense because he had to be. Because he could not admit defeat. But it was because of, rather than despite, these flaws that Ruce loved him. He could see the man that Nick could have been and should have been. And so he made his choice.

Forcing himself forward, the dwarf ran toward the crystalline structure with as much speed as he could summon from his damaged leg. He could feel it as the spirit turned, sharply.

Praying that this was the right timing, Ruce flung himself to the side, narrowly missing the oncoming stream of energy, at the same time as he flung his axe towards the crystalline structure. He hit the ground with a thud as the world groaned around him, as hideous shrieking noise filled the air, as rocks upturned and bursts of light streamed forth.

As he lay there, breathing quietly, a dark shape came vaguely into focus. "Ruce? You're hurt. Bad."

It almost sounded like Claude.

---

Nick knew that his mind should be more on the upcoming battle, but he couldn't help turning Mayfair's refusal over and over in his mind. It had really shocked him, this time. The first time she had refused him, yes, that was understandable in retrospect. He even privately admitted that he might not have chosen the best way to approach such a delicate subject at the time.

But this time… Gods be good, he was her king. She owed him duty and he needed to wed, soon. Mayfair was the ideal choice. He had explained that, he had told her, and she had still balked him. He didn't understand.

He thought back to that meeting he had once had with Lord Max, where he had ultimately agreed to support Max on the barricade. He remembered how he had left that meeting with everything he'd hoped for secured and how he had, briefly, felt that he had been denied something. It rang out with startling clarity in his thoughts, perhaps because the situations were similar, in certain qualities.

It was always in the little irrational details. He could not forget that it was only human for people to be distracted by such and that he could not expect his subjects to use ration to the same extent that he himself did. Such foolish details…

He forcibly drove his mind away from such subjects, pondering his plans instead. Gyan had marched as he had hoped, and it had drawn most of Uglu's forces into battle. Using his extensive knowledge of the castle, Nick's group had promptly infiltrated it from the north. As long as he took control of the castle, it wouldn't matter if Uglu won the battle, although Nick sincerely doubted that he would. Dawn's small platoon had slipped off to aid in that as an ambushing group.

So really, until he encountered the traitor lords he would have to fight, the important thing would be to continue preparing for his immediate ascent to power. For those who might be recalcitrant, the promise of absorbing Iom should be enough to quiet them. The true problem was marrying Lord Deanna to somebody or other; Nicholas hadn't much thought about it at the time, but it quite suddenly occurred to him that he'd sent Natasha with Ruce, precisely because he had unconsciously noted the attraction between the young mage and Deanna. Natasha would serve such a purpose admirably, and, of course, she would probably help to keep Deanna docile. If that was the case, however, then Yeesha might be a bit of a problem…

He shook his head; it would do no good to consider that now. For now he was at the Throne Room, or, rather, he would be as soon as he opened the door. He nodded silently to Deanna and Mayfair, both flanking him, and drew the Sword of Hajya. The two of them moved swiftly, unbarring the door, and Nicholas II strode boldly into his home.

"Your Grace!" The shout rang out from across the room. Nick frowned at the speaker. He had recognized Lord Oskrim immediately. "Your Grace," he said again, a sly smile spreading across his red-bearded features. "We had heard of your coming."

Now Nick hesitated a moment. Oskrim was obviously telling the truth as to that much, but if this was a trap, then it was a very elaborate one. His momentary doubt evaporated. Oskrim was not to be trusted; the man had betrayed him to the Usurper.

Keeping his blade in a guarded stance, Nicholas said in an icy voice, "Lord Oskrim. I trust you will not object if my men take you into custody… for your own safety of course."

Oskrim's smile widened. "A moment of your time, Your Grace. I have brought you a great gift." He snapped his fingers and two guards leapt up immediately, flinging a corpse down. Nick's mouth tightened. He didn't need to be told with what coin Oskrim was buying his life, but the lordling said the obvious. "Your Grace, I grant you the head of the traitor, Vensic."

_Oskrim? _Something didn't feel right about that; Oskrim wasn't known for his impetuosity. He made choices when he had to and that explained this, but he wasn't the sort of man to plot and lay out the intricate treason that the inconsistencies of Uglu's coup indicated to him.

Nick ground his teeth, coming to a sudden decision. "Deanna, Mayfair. Stay here and guard Lord Oskrim at all costs… _unless you want to tell me now where Dava is?_"

---

Dawn killed another man as he came at her. A man in Cyprian uniform…

_A traitor. _

She had to believe that. Dawn did not like killing her countrymen. Still, she mused, as she successfully dodged another attack, the plan was obviously effective. Uglu's traitor forces had been slow to react to the surprise attack from behind.

Dawn knew that she needed to be thinking more of the battle, each moment might be her last if she didn't focus, but somehow she couldn't keep from turning things over in her mind. And so she fought, almost mechanically.

She wondered how Natasha was doing now that King Nicholas had sent her off with Ruce. She also wondered, and not for the first time, what had happened to her to make her ever even think of leaving her friend to die. Dawn was not made for emotional crises, but that single instance still stood out, stark in her mind. It had taken to haunting her.

There hadn't been any purpose to the thought that Dawn could even define and that troubled her immensely. As a woman of few friends, Dawn was pleased to count to count Natasha as one of them. No, the only thought that made any sense at all was that it came back to that irrational envy of hers.

She dodged a sword thrust, considering this point. It was clear to her now that she did, in fact, envy Deanna and Natasha. But that had no logical application either; they didn't gain anything from their pointless mutual affection. There was no benefit in it, no real reason for its being. Was that what irked her?

_Or mayhaps it's me._

She resisted the thought, however, because it was ridiculous. Just as there was no benefit for either Natasha or Deanna in the romanticism in which they indulged, there was also no point in it for Dawn. It gained her nothing. If that was the case, however, why did it seem so vitally important?

Dawn's tactical mind snapped back to her as she noted one of the enemy commanders struggling against heavy attacks from one of the loyalists. She galloped forward quickly, eager to exploit the opportunity and eager to flee from her maudlin ponderings.

This one was very good and he was dressed in very well-made armor. The only concession to finery that Dawn could see was a white cloak. She raised her spear high for a powerful thrust, but the man suddenly turned, catching the spear-point with his sword and deflecting it.

His other opponent promptly lunged forward to take advantage of the momentary distraction, but the enemy commander was already spinning back, his blade slicing through the other man's chest.

Even as Dawn went for another attack herself, she marveled at the cleverness of this opponent, using her, to lure his other attacker into dropping his guard. This time, however, the commander was little slower to return to her, his blade had been stopped for a moment longer, and she scored a solid hit in his arm.

Then the man whirled about, bringing his sword sharply upward and neatly knocking Dawn's spear back. He was rapid to retaliate, jabbing relentlessly, making sure to keep her at a distance that made the spear next to useless.

Awkwardly, she began another attack, but the man easily deflected it with a sharp twist of his blade. Before she had time to think, he attacked again, the blade scraping across her breast plate. Dawn realized that she was facing a master swordsman, a man who might have been a match even for Deanna. The revelation chilled her.

The commander continued his confident attack, and Dawn suddenly grasped his purpose. She would either die on his blade, or be forced into the moat. Barely taking a second to consider her new plan, she lashed out with a hoof, taking him completely by surprise, and smashing into his knee. The one leg buckled and the man stumbled.

Dawn didn't take the time to note this, she just charged straight in, ready to end the deadly dance. The man gave a muffled shout of surprise as she slammed into him, struggling to make a cut with his sword. He went down hard, his arm twisting back in a screech of metal.

He thudded to the ground and, as Dawn raised her spear to end it, muttered something. She cocked her head towards him, "What?"

"Yield," he grunted. "I yield. Castle Cypress." Struggling with his left arm, he ripped his helmet off. Long auburn hair poured across his shoulders. "I yield. Take me to Gyan."

Dawn stared at him, impressed. This could only be Uglu. And yet, she hesitated. Seeing this, he repeated, "Yield."

Dawn found herself uncertain what to do with this man who had once taken Cypress. She stared at his mangled arm; aware that it had been more luck than aught else that she had taken him. And what would Deanna want her to do?

Her mind snapped at that point. Why did she care what Deanna wanted? He was a non-entity. She could hear his voice though, whispering that Uglu had yielded to her with honor. She could hear…

Without conscious volition, Dawn raised her spear and drove it through Uglu's vulnerable throat.

---

The attack came without warning. Dava stared in horrified shock at the blade running through her midsection. Already, she could feel her strength leaving her. She gazed into the burning eyes of Nicholas II, well aware of whom she was facing.

He drew his blade out of her, and then slashed off one of her hands. "That's for Cypress, you bitch," he snarled. He smashed his fist into her face next. "And that's for King Nicholas I."

Images were rapidly flashing through Dava's mind, spanning the whole of her life. She could see the lifeless body of her teacher, the old man she had once murdered. She could see every plot she had ever spun, every thread she had ever controlled, every victory she had ever known. And through it all, she could see the spirit of prophecy, warning her of this fall.

Choking on the blood, she thought on the irony of sending Bulldor to fetch the staff. It was meaningless now. There was only one thing left to do. The dying spiriter fumbled with her remaining hand for her focus gem.

Barely touching it, she summoned with as much power as her mind had left. Without warning, energy poured from the Sword of Hajya straight into her, straight into the flow of her summoning. Dava couldn't even feel the pain anymore.

All she could see suddenly, was the visage of King Nicholas I, looking at her through the eyes of the spirit. And all she knew was that the age of the spiriter had just ended.

---

"Gyan is without, Your Grace."

Nicholas sat up straight, wearily brushing his hair out of his face. "He knows that I gave orders not to be disturbed?"

"He says that it is urgent, Your Grace."

"Of course," murmured Nick. "You may as well show him in, and no, I'm not angry, Dawn." The centaur bowed her head, but before she could escape Nicholas asked, "I hear that battle brought you face to face with Uglu. How did he seem to you?"

She hesitated. "He… fought with honor, Your Grace."

Nick could hear something in her tone, but he was too tired to deal with it now, and so he dismissed it. "A pity that you had to kill him." Dawn stood stock still, staring at the ground. He waved his hand. "Yes, yes, that is all. You may show Gyan in."

She mutely went out, and in a few moments, Gyan strode in. Nicholas's old friend was much as he remembered him; tall and strong, one-eyed, yet handsome, and quite formidable looking in his bulky armor.

The beastman immediately went to his knees. "Your Grace," he intoned deeply. "All of Cypress rejoices at your return."

"Not all of Cypress," he muttered darkly. That, in truth, touched on a sore point. None of Cypress rejoiced at his coming. He was adequate for them, no more. They had made that clear, first with Edmond and second with Uglu. His scowl fell on his heavily bandaged hands.

He had slain Dava personally, but somehow, some sort of energy had flowed from the Sword of Hajya and it had wounded him. Fortunately, Cray had been on hand to heal him. Really, Cray had proved remarkably useful to Nick. He stored that away in his mind, for future use.

"Well, old friend, you may as well speak up. I know that you wouldn't trouble me if it wasn't an important matter."

"It is, as a matter of fact." Gyan gave Nick a very direct look. "I've heard rumors that you mean to depopulate the aristocracy."

"The traitors will be executed, yes." To his pleasure, he sounded completely unfazed. _A king's voice. That, I have truly learned._

"Listen to what you're saying, Nick. If you kill all of the 'traitors' you won't have an aristocracy left. Is that what you want?"

"A wise king does not offer a serpent any more chances than he has to. King Gadis first let those who fought against him up off of their knees, and when they betrayed his trust a second time, had them executed."

"And King Gadis was right in both cases. Nick, if you're holding Uglu against them…"

"Most of these lords betrayed me twice, to two usurpers. This discussion is closed."

"What is this supposed to be?" sputtered Gyan. "What kind of a king are you trying to prove yourself as? What kind of man?"

"Gyan…" Nicholas sighed, searching for the words to make his friend understand. "I must do this. The people do not love me as they loved my father. I must show them strength… and it isn't cruelty, it is justice. It is _law_. Law, Gyan. Traitors have always lost their head under the law."

Gyan cocked his head to one side, peering at Nick curiously. "What's this really about? Who are you trying to prove yourself to?"

"You have to understand," he implored. "They think me weak. They all think me weak." Gyan sat back at that, his eyes bright with speculation. Seized by a sudden impulse, Nick asked, "Why… why did you follow me Gyan? Through everything?"

"Do you have to ask? You are the king." Nick gazed levelly at his friend for a moment, before turning away. It was just as it had always been. Gyan could see to the heart of things… he had real power that way. The beastman whispered, "And also… Edmond would have made a wretched king." Nick looked back quickly, and was startled to see tears in Gyan's eyes. "He was lecherous… vain."

Nick groaned as he leant back in his chair. For a moment, he had thought that he had found something, but Gyan's answer was the same as he had always known it would have been. He was king. That was all there was. There was nothing else to be found.

He sighed. "Very well. Gyan, you are my new Warden of the West." Gyan started to rise, but Nick quickly held up a hand, forestalling him. "I need good people around me. My people. People I can trust."

Gyan stayed there for half a moment more, staring up at Nicholas and then he rose properly. "In that case… one thing before I go, Your Grace. As a favor to me, do not execute your lords." With that the beastman swept up and out of the door.

The Cyprian king sat there for a long time after, staring out of the window into the cool night.


	49. Chapter 49: Interlude 5

Chapter 49:

Interlude Part 5

_"Well," demanded King Ulrich, "what did you learn?" _

_Alf's lips pressed together at the slight; he was a member of the royal family, and king or no, he deserved respect from his cousin. He said stiffly, "I'm afraid that I could not learn much. I managed to run across some of them talking, but I couldn't get very close and I didn't hear but snatches of the conversation." He paused for half a moment, well aware that he would have to walk softly here. He couldn't allow Mars or the Chancellor to realize that he was quite aware of their little games. "I could only manage to make out two voices, but from what little I did hear, they spoke the name 'Pazort.' Also, I think that they mean to attack at dawn, but I am far from certain." _

_He left it at that, well-satisfied that the lies he had spun would be enough to subtly warn Ulrich and were just thin enough that the Chancellor would be able to read the message in it… without suspecting Alf. _

_"Very well," muttered the king. "Thin. But I suppose that'll have to do." It was amazing to see the change in him; there was no trace of the genial dimwit he had made himself out to be. "If it's at dawn, we may as well try to get some sort of rest. Rotate the guards, Kaizel." _

_The elderly knight dipped his head in subservience. On a sudden impulse, Alf said, "As I am not needed at the moment and as I have done my duty, I should like permission to speak to my cousin." For a moment the room was full of blank silence, and then a dull flush crept up the king's face. _

_He gestured sullenly to the back room. "Certainly. Why not?" His acquiescence, while hardly enthusiastic or gracious, was all that Alf was waiting for. _

_Before Alf could make his way forward, however, Mars sputtered, "But… but this is hardly… honorable… I…" _

_Alf's patience snapped. "In that case, why don't you come with me to assure that Satera's honor is not compromised?" His dropping of her official title was deliberate. He added sarcastically, "After all, we all know here that there's a mutual attraction between my _cousin_ and myself." _

_He heard a smothered snort and glanced up quickly. Ulrich was covering his mouth with his hand, and Alf smiled broadly, pleased that the quip had been that effective. _

_He stepped forward, and Mars followed him, his face white. As soon as the two had gone some little distance from the others, Mars gripped his shoulder. "Alf, please, I…" His voice was anguished. Alf supposed that he had been practicing. Finally the smaller boy blurted, "I did not know that Alec would do that. It was… evil. Please, believe me. I never meant for that happen!" _

_Alf's brow furrowed in thought for a moment, before he realized what Mars was referring to. "The mob you mean?" He nodded slowly, seeing no reason to play coy with this nemesis of his. "Oh, I believe that, certainly." _

_Mars smiled tentatively. "Then… we can be friends again? Truly, I am sorry for what His Grace did as well. I didn't mean for you to suffer from that; we both made the mistake." _

_Alf stood there, stunned into silence. Really, Mars was unbelievable! To what purpose was he spinning this supposed friendship? Unless Pazort had played that as well… _

Blood spilled out of the ghastly wound in Morley's face, but still he smiled at Alf. "You won your bet after all," he said, a note of surprise in his voice. He held out his hand, as though in casual offer.

"No!" He stumbled backwards. "Keep away from me!"

"That's right," said Morley, looking puzzled. "You're dead now. Like me."

"No!" Alf turned and ran as far as he could, though Morley's genial voice echoed after him.

"Alf, come back! It's all blood under the bridge now!"

He ran through the passageways of Castle Odegan, but they twisted and turned in unfamiliar directions. A slithering obsequious voice whispered in his ear, "No, Massster Alfred. That issss not the way. Come, I will guide you."

Howling in terror, he drew his sword and hacked away at Bangar's obese form. "Fool, you'll never find your way without meeeeeeee!" The reptile vanished as it spoke and Alf desperately ran to the closest door.

He yanked it open hard, but inside he was only greeted by more demons. Charter was hardly recognizable; his body was burned, and bones were jutting out of Bob's broken neck. Paul stepped forward, a hole of leaking blood in his chest.

"Alf! I knew you'd come."

"Stay away," warned Alf, inching towards the door. "You're dead!"

"Yes, I remember. You did this to me. But what's death between friends?"

"Stay away from me," he screamed, running back out of the door.

Paul shouted after him, "Sure. Anytime."

He sped through more hallways, no longer looking to find refuge, merely running from these terrible people. Alf could not bear to have them in his presence. If only he could find the rain… nothing could hurt him in the rain.

Panting in a sheer terror quite unlike anything he had ever known, Alf stumbled as he ground to a halt. Before him was a great door with no branching path to take. Nervously, he glanced behind himself, and, sure enough, there was Paul waving merrily at him with Morley by his side, Bangar coming up behind them and…

Alf lunged through the door, desperate for escape. But there he found no solace for he was in a great room dominated by a huge table set as a feast. Sitting there in two chairs, grotesquely large, were King Ulrich the First of his Name and Pazort, the dark sorcerer. The two were so much larger than life, titans in truth now, but Ulrich's face was swollen and purple with death; he slumped in his throne, his robes heavy with water. Pazort's body had terrible rents and tears in it, but unlike the others, he did not bleed.

A dreadful smile crept up Ulrich's red-bearded face. "Ah. And it is the traitor of blood."

"Indeed," Pazort agreed with him. "The traitor. Very apt, if I do say so, Your Grace."

"For such an impudent sorcerer, I'll grant that you have an eloquent turn of phrase." He turned booming heartily to Alf, "Come my boy, eat your fill."

Before Alf could even make a noise, a rough hand grabbed him, and started forcing him to the table. Alec grinned at him, but his neck was swollen and bloody. "Guest of honor, Your Grace. Alfred!"

"Leave me alone," sobbed Alf as Alec forcibly shoved him down in a chair. Within seconds, a trolley whistled and the Chancellor came running down the length of the table.

"The main course," he declared proudly, bearing a maniacal grin. He leant over and whipped off the top with a flourish. Alf retched at the sight of Satera, done up as a cake.

Ulrich heartily took a forkful of her thigh, murmuring throaty appreciation. "Really my boy, you should eat up. This is quite excellent. You'll find it tasty, no doubt."

The Chancellor advanced on him, leering madly. "Enjoy the supper, boy! You'll be the next course!"

"Help me," screamed Alf. And there before him appeared a ghostly form of Ser Kaizel.

The old knight glared at him. "Fool of fool. Too proud to listen. Will pride keep you safe, lad?"

"Ser," he croaked, "please, ser. Give me a sword! I can't protect myself without a sword."

"I gave you a sword," the old man rejoined. His brows crackled with sorrow. "I tried to explain. Why didn't you understand? Why wouldn't you listen? Gods Alf, I loved you. We all did. Why did you do this to me?"

"NO!" Alf howled, jumping to his feet. The world spun around him, and Cayne was there, lying spread-eagle in the rain-soaked grass, dead as dead could be. "Get up and fight," sobbed Alf. Cayne was unresponsive as ever. "Please, you have to fight! I need you to… Speak to me!" Sobbing harder, he hit Cayne's lifeless body. "Get up and fight!"

Cayne's dead eyes suddenly came to life. "Alf?" He sounded so shocked, so confused, so betrayed…

_"Alf?" _

_Alf stared numbly ahead, not quite processing the urgency in Mars's voice. The boy shook his shoulder. "Alf, is something wrong? You look awful." _

_Shaking horribly Alf stumbled to his feet. "Don't touch me!" He heard how strained his voice sounded, but he didn't care. He stumbled further backwards, out of Mars's reach. _

_Mars frowned. "You really shou-" _

_"Stay away from me!" Alf swallowed nervously, slowly realizing just how quiet the room had become. "I'm… fine," he croaked. "Just nervous." Shuddering horribly, he sank down against the wall, clutching his sword. _

_He could still hear Cayne's voice, so wounded by treachery, so hurt, so shocked… But that was Pazort. Pazort was the root of it all. Pazort had played Alf… Pazort and his friend Mars. Mars was very good, Alf supposed, but he wasn't so foolish as to believe that inane blather. It was a carefully orchestrated conspiracy. _

_Mars asked gently, "Do you still wish to speak with Satera?" _

_"I, what…?" Alf could hear himself, choppy and harsh. "No, I think not. I need to… rest. Yes, that's it. I need to rest." And Alf sat there for a long time after, shivering for some reason that he could not understand. Coils upon coils… it was so confusing. He had identified Pazort's role in the treachery, but much of the true nature of this conspiracy still escaped him. That was all that had unsettled him; a moment of weakness, no more. Coils upon coils… _

_--- _

_Alf woke some time later, feeling the light on his face. Staggering to his feet, slightly, he peered at the windows. The dawn light was just coming in. He was out of time. Clutching his sword, nervously, he turned his gaze towards the door… even as the barrier faltered. _

_Without a word, an orb of pure ice came shooting through the door, announcing the arrival of Bangar. Alf turned, following the orb's path straight to the throne… but then Ulrich stood and with annoyed grunt made a flicking motion with his hand. The orb broke apart. _

_Pazort stepped through the doorway, flanked by Bangar and Nuge. Kari was not far behind. "So you are this Sorcerer King I've heard so much about." _

_"That was original of you," said Ulrich sarcastically. "Kaizel, kill these buffoons for me, would you?" Within a bare few moments, the pitiful defenders of Odegan were on their feet, brandishing what weaponry they had. Alf's jaw worked silently. Confronted with the moment, he didn't know what to do. If only he could get close enough to Pazort to end things quickly… _

_In the meantime, the dark elf had assumed a cajoling tone. "Come now, Your Grace. What need is there of bloodshed? As one of an ancient line, you know the work I mean to do here. Why not share in its fruits with me?" _

_"That was amusing if not particularly persuasive. Will a simple 'no' suffice?" _

_"Then it stands to reason that I will not be rid of your interference unless I terminate your existence. A pity." Pazort shook his head. "Bangar, kill him if you would be so good?" _

_"No," said the reptile. For a moment there was dead silence in the room, and then everything started happening at once. _

_Mars shouted in a clear voice, "Forward soldiers of Odegan!" _

_Pazort in the meantime had neatly backhanded Bangar's face, knocking the reptile to the ground. "You will obey me," he snarled._

_Nuge seized his master's arm. "They're coming for us… what do we do?" _

_"Kill them all," bellowed Pazort, his rage full upon him. "Kill them al… ah!" He spun about cat-quick, catching the sweep of Mars's blade with his staff. In a single moment, his mood shifted to one of satisfied evil. "Aha, boy! Do you wish to follow in the footsteps of your illustrious sire? Ser Jiles was twice the swordsman you are and I slew him." _

_"No," Mars corrected, "you had your dragon-warrior kill him. And now I'll kill you." _

_There was a strange roaring building up in Alf's head and he didn't know where to look. Alec and a couple of the others had engaged Nuge, there was no sign of Bangar or Kari and Pazort and Mars still sparred… oh his head hurt! Alf couldn't think clearly. _

_That was when a panicked voice shrilled, "Stop this nonsense now!" _

_Alf turned and stared in shock. King Ulrich was standing tight against his throne and the Chancellor was holding a blade against his throat. The Chancellor was weeping. "Stop all of this nonsense," he gasped. "There are better ways!" _

_"You," snarled Ser Kaizel unsheathing his blade. _

_"Father!" Satera's scream distracted Alf fully for a moment, and then he burst into a run. This was what he had to do… _

_King Ulrich, a hefty man by any standard, suddenly lurched at the Chancellor. The older man gave a shriek and stumbled back, knocking into Satera. Ulrich choked noisily. Alf stared in shock at the king's chest, which was wounded. "Cold," muttered Ulrich. The king slumped down in his throne, clearly alive, but badly weakened… _

_"Stay back," warned the Chancellor, holding Satera from behind now, the dagger at her throat. His hand was shaking unsteadily. Alf's vision blurred with angry tears for a moment. King Ulrich was just slumped there, struggling to breathe… _

"_I could have been the heir you wanted," Alf whispered. "Why wouldn't you listen to me?" _

_"Princess," bellowed Alec. The lieutenant pulled away from the men keeping Nuge occupied. "Let her go." Alec burst into a run then, hefting his spear threateningly. The Chancellor gaped; well aware that Alec was skilled enough to probably kill him without hurting Satera. _

_But in that same moment, something deep inside of Alf snapped. "No," he screamed furiously. "You will not take that from me!" He could feel his powers gathering, coiling for a blow… and then he released the energy, feeling the rumble of power. _

_Alec went spinning to the ground as some unseen force crushed his throat in. "No…" whispered Alf. "They made me do that… it was Pazort." _

_"Alf," came a sharp voice. "Alf!" Alf spun, sharply slashing his blade. Ser Kaizel stood before him then, clutching at the wound in his throat. His lips moved silently, making Alf's name, but no sound came. The old knight crumpled to the ground. _

_"NO!" howled Alf, sinking down beside the old man. He hit his unresponsive body. "No! Ser!" He hit him again, and blood from the ghastly wound spattered him. "No," sobbed Alf. "I didn't do it, they made me! Cayne and Morley," he gibbered. "It wasn't supposed to… Ser Kaizel!" _

The old man's eyes opened suddenly. "Alf…" that voice, so shocked, so sorrowing, so torn, so wounded…

Cayne's eyes sprang open. "Alf?"

"Alf?"

_Sobbing, he forced himself to his feet, when he felt a steadying hand on his elbow. "Easy now," whispered Nuge. Alf stared, uncomprehending; at the bodies of the soldiers that Nuge had been fighting for a moment. Then it came to him. They must have been distracted when Alec had gone and if Nuge had been able to slay even one… _

_Anger erupted in his soul, "Stay away from me!" _

_Nuge followed his gaze down to the sword which Alf had jerked violently through Nuge's own midsection. "You've killed me, you fool," he gritted. _

_Alf stumbled away from the dying enemy, his head ringing intolerably. He turned away, trying to get away from all of the blood, and his eyes met Satera's. There was a dreadful fear in her face, and he stumbled back again, trying to flee from that, cold judgment. _

_Trembling with something he couldn't even define, Alf rasped, "Pazort." Shaking like a madman, he charged into the duel that Mars and Pazort were still having, slashing his sword wildly, and laughing like a drunken fool. _

_But Mars turned and sent a sweeping cut against Alf, crashing Alf into the wall. Alf stared, hatred consuming him. Mars had had no right… But even as he started to gather his will, Pazort struck Mars, hard. _

_Alf's attention was diverted to the staff… the staff… Gathering his will again with a sudden renewal of energy, he directed all of his rage at the eerily glowing crystal in the handle of the staff. A moment later, an explosion answered him. _

_--- _

_Alf blinked, blearily, barely aware of his surroundings. It took him a full minute to realize that he was staring into the ruins of Castle Odegan's throne room. Peering through the swirling dust, it came to Alf. The explosion he had instigated must have ended the battle… _

_Rising to his wobbly feet, Alf surveyed the scene of destruction. There was Pazort, unmistakable from his distinctive black robes. The dark elf's body was badly ripped, and he had no face. Mars was lying near Pazort's lifeless form, just as obviously dead, though not so badly marred. _

_It was the heavy breathing that gave away his assailant at the last moment. Alf spun about, ducking low, sending his arm out in a violent, sweeping motion. There was crash and a muffled curse, but Alf had already launched himself forward. He crashed into the pudgy form, his blade out, and at the Chancellor's throat. _

_"No," shrieked the Chancellor. "Don't kill me! Not like you did the others, you murderer." _

_"Don't call me that." Alf gestured proudly. "I am a great warrior. I defeated Odegan's foes!" _

_"You are an imbecile," bellowed the Chancellor. "A vicious murdering…" words seemed to fail the former official. _

_Alf hit him, hard. "Don't call me that! The only murderer here is you, you… psychotic! You regicide!" _

_"The air is positively thick with irony," muttered the Chancellor. _

_Angry beyond measure, Alf slashed off one of his fingers. As the man screamed Alf warned him, "Don't make light of me. I haven't forgotten your slander!" _

_"Slander," wheezed the Chancellor, as he cradled his left hand. He started to open his mouth again, but perhaps he saw the warning glint in Alf's eyes, because he shut it quickly. Finally he gasped, "It wasn't supposed to happen like this… I thought with Kaizel… but then you're worse than he was before you went and murdered hi-" _

_Too angry to even physically harm the man now, Alf warned him, "If you say that one more time, I will kill you." He started to ask the pertinent question, when he heard a frightened whimper. His gaze was drawn to the throne, the source of the noise. He gaped for a moment at Satera, kneeling there beside her father's corpse. _

_"You," he roared turning a backhanded slap at the cringing Chancellor. "How dare you kill the king?" He slapped him again. "How dare you hurt Satera like that? How dare you do this to me?" He started to raise his blade again, when he remembered what he had wanted to ask. "What do you mean, 'it wasn't supposed to happen like this?' What is it that you know?" Leaning forward now, his voice deadly soft, he whispered, "What is there to know?" _

_There was nothing but fear in the Chancellor's eyes. "Gods help me, I brought Pazort here. I thought that with him… I knew what he meant to do, but we had worked it out beforehand! Please," he whispered then. "Please. It was I who bid Charter refuse the Hobbit Elder entry… I gave Pazort Ser Jiles years ago… please…" _

_Alf found himself trembling with anger again. "It was you…" he croaked, bowing his head in shame. The Chancellor started edging away from him. "Go," spat Alf. "Go! I've already failed my duty." _

_"Where?" Alf read the fear that laced the Chancellor's tone. _

_"Go to hell for all I care," he sobbed. "Go to hell, to serve Pazort!" _

_"Just as well that you murdered Ser Kaizel," the Chancellor muttered to himself, his voice regaining confidence. But at that, Alf's hand shot out, clapping itself over the Chancellor's wrist and forcing him to his knees. "No," croaked the Chancellor, but Alf was already moving. It took only one swing to cut his head off. _

_"I told you not to call me that," he told the Chancellor's corpse. _

_He stumbled forward then, to the throne where Satera knelt in petrified silence. "Satera," he said with relief. "Come. There's nothing for us here." _

_She leant away from him. "Please, kinsman… for the love you bear me, leave me." _

_Alf shook his head. "No. We have to go now. It's for your own good." _

_"Keep away from me!" _

_Alf gazed at her, incredulous. In her eyes he read nothing but fear and wariness. "No," he said angrily. "It's not Mars! You always loved me better. Not him!" _

_She tried to get further into the throne. "You killed him. You killed them all. Please, just leave me!" _

_Alf advanced upon her, desire suddenly roaring to life in his chest, in his heart, in his loins. "You never loved him! It was always me. You're mine!" He lunged at her then, all of his fear, all of his hurt, all of his desire unfurling into this single necessary moment. Satera shrieked and pulled away, her gown tearing in his grasp. _

_"Yes," he murmured struggling with his own clothing. Satera desperately kicked at him, straining to get away from his grasp. "Satera," he gasped, free from the confines of his dress, stark naked before her. _

_She strained away again, though her own gown had collapsed off her, and the two remained locked in that combat of denial for a few moments longer, when Alf's fist came crashing down. _

_--- _

_Some time later, Alf's senses cleared. He frowned, trying to remember what had happened over the last few hours. He didn't know why he was naked, why he felt raw between the legs. And then he realized that a woman was huddled in his arms. He looked at her, barely recognizing Satera, from the dead ruin that her face had become. _

_Trembling with sorrow he croaked, "No… who did this? No… no! I was still looking for you! I would have protected you!" Sobbing and shaking like a leaf, Alf knelt there, crumpled over his beloved cousin's corpse in sorrow. _

_It was that familiar dry voice that finally broke his weeping. "It's very tragic I know. I would have saved her if I could." _

_"You!" Alf stumbled to his feet backing away from the figure in alarm. "Pazort! Go away! You're dead!" _

_"I know," said the spectre, nodding sympathetically. "You betrayed me, and killed me. You broke my heart, Alfred. But I'm back. I'm still your loyal friend. Your only friend, if I'm any judge." _

_"No. You attacked Odegan with the Chancellor's help. Ser Kaizel…" he broke off in a gasp. Just saying his old mentor's name made his chest clench. _

_"You believe those lies? Alfred, I admit that I am less than I was, but I have still returned to you. The Chancellor lied to you, Alf. He meant for you to die too, surely you realize that. He was a heinous man and he wanted to revive an ancient power. I only became involved to stop him." _

_Alf groaned. His head hurt again, and he couldn't think clearly anymore. _

_Pazort said gently, "I know that you loved Ser Kaizel, Alf, but believe me, that old man was not your friend. He knighted Mars and hoped to see him wed to Satera. He always kept the truth from you. Alf… all I can say is that I do love you. Let me help you. Please." _

_Forgetting the lifeless corpse of his former cousin, Alf walked forward, unsteadily, reaching out for Pazort's hand. For a moment, the contact was real, solid, tangible… warm. But only for a moment, and then Alf's hand clutched nothing. "You're not really here," he muttered angrily. "Like all the rest. You're dead too." _

_Pazort grinned at him. "But with you, Alfred, I am almost here. We'll never need to face the lies alone again. Where are we off to?" _

_And so it was that Alf stepped out into the world, naked, newborn, and broken, but never alone. He slowly walked from the shattered remains of Odegan, leaving his old dreamlike life, far behind. _


	50. Chapter 50: The Battle of Skull Castle

Chapter 50

The Battle of Skull Castle

"It's taken me a long time to realize it," said Max's voice, from behind him. "I never knew you before, after all. But you're sick, aren't you?"

Warderer kept his gaze straight ahead, on the sight of the hated fortress of Mishalea. "So you've worked that out."

"Dying?"

"Yes," he admitted, calmly. "And yes, that's when I realized… when I started thinking about this. I don't have another chance."

Max was silent for some time, allowing Warderer a few blessed minutes to ponder the end of his own existence. He was surprised by how little he felt. All his life had been preparing him for this moment… "I should have done this, years ago," he realized.

"I don't think that you were an altogether bad person." Max's voice was low with urgency. "But you killed that part of yourself, didn't you? You left part of yourself behind to die… just so you could kill Mishalea."

"Are you going to regale me with a speech of morality? Your own morals are suffering, these days, I understand."

"I've seen the traces of what you once were, Warderer. And I understand who you are now. Power, wealth, influence… none of these things have ever mattered to you for their own sake, now have they? You could have changed the world, Warderer. But now, you're here."

At last, Warderer turned to face him. He could hear where this was going and he had no wish to continue the conversation. "There is no such thing as redemption in Rune."

"You're wrong," Max told him, and then, smiling awkwardly, held out his hand. "I suppose this is where we say goodbye. For what it's worth, I hope you do well, for your own sake."

Warderer chuckled. "For your sake, I hope that you're fast. She'll notice me anytime now."

---

Hindel finally pulled himself up over the wall, cat-quick. The attack on Skull Castle had finally begun. It was his task to clear off the undead guarding the outer walls, under Bazoo, no doubt.

Doing this made his chest feel tight, though Hindel knew that his scruples were laughable. It was just that he had come to Skull Castle as a guest. And now he was returning to fight against Mishalea. Still, he had already betrayed his principles once, and that had been against Warderer. That had been worse. Though Hindel's greatest loyalty was to his little brother, he owed Warderer a lot. Betraying him had broken every instinct that Hindel had, but he had still done it. Finishing the war against Mishalea was nothing, in comparison.

Freeing the pouch at his belt, Hindel crouched low, hoping to avoid detection. If necessary, nothing could stop him of course. The contents of the pouch would burst into magically unquenchable flame if he threw it with enough force…

"Hindel!" The sly voice was the same. Resigned to his fate, the Black Knight rose to his feet, and sighed.

"Bazoo."

The undead wizard, smiled, clearly pleased with himself. He snapped his dry, dead, crackling fingers and undead came pouring in around him. "You owe me," the wizard said. "I helped you kill Frabell."

"I owe you nothing." Bazoo sighed theatrically, and his men started to come in. Without another word, Hindel held the pouch up for them all to see. As fast as that, Bazoo halted the advance. His fear was practically palpable.

"Hindel… we can work this out."

No longer paying attention to the wizard, knowing that Bazoo was just waiting for the right moment, Hindel whispered, "I love you too, little brother." And with that, he flung the pouch into Bazoo's sneering face.

---

"They've begun attacking," Magus reported, unnecessarily.

Mishalea paced uneasily. She had heard nothing from Kisaragi as yet… surely they hadn't managed to kill even her, as well? Nonetheless, Mishalea privately acknowledged that at this final assault, she felt exhilarated. Some relief, even.

Finally having this necessary and thoroughly tangible challenge before her, she felt some of the fog in her mind clearing. This was what it all boiled down to. Her gaze slid across her commanders, such as they were. "Magus," she said. "You'll take a full force to the main, right level. Supreme General Kre'sar, to the left. And High Commander Slit shall command the main level."

The bulky lizardman said confidently, "Sere is no need. Se vards vill hold."

"I agree. Call it a precaution." Slit paused, looking uncertain and finally nodded at her in a petulant manner, slipping from the shrine. The mage he had raised to Supreme General followed him.

Mishalea was glad enough of that. She needed Slit and she had already learned what had drawn Eiku to him. The lizardman, in his way, was very capable and commendably loyal. Nonetheless, Mishalea merely tolerated Slit. She did not like dealing with him, and there was something just the slightest bit unnerving about Kre'sar. When all was said and done, however, Mishalea did not have a choice.

Lynx had failed her and Eiku she had given over to Tao, to prove her sincerity. She had not once regretted that decision, until now. Eiku had lied to her yes, he had betrayed her, and he had used her. But he had also been loyal, in his way, and he had never given her bad military advice. She missed that.

She looked uncertainly at the remaining commanders. Oddeye, Geshp and Paezorta. If ever there was an absurdly fitting combination, they would be it, she suspected. Finally she said, "Paezorta… if you would perhaps find Nosshu…"

"If there's an attack, I should be at your side."

"I'll go," offered Oddeye, quietly.

Mishalea was unmoved. "No. I need you here. And you'll make your way back quickly enough. Max can hardly be here in the time that it takes you to find Nosshu."

Paezorta nodded reluctantly. "To what purpose, milady?"

"I need to consult with him." The lie hung on the air for a moment, and then Paezorta turned to leave. Mishalea buried her face in her hands, feeling somewhat queasy. She had not wanted to be forced to this, but with Rilix's sudden disappearance, she was left with no alternative. She could not trust any of the Vandals. Not even an Inferior Vandal who had not inherited the spirit. Not even Paezorta, who had always been loyal to her.

_Curse you Max. You forced me to this, the same as the rest. _

If only her hatred of Max could be a liquid cold as her loathing of Zeon had been. If only… That was when she felt it.

_Warderer. _

Her wayward apprentice had returned at last, finally to be killed, with the Shining Force in tow. "Gods," she whispered hoarsely, suddenly very glad that she had taken precautions. Bazoo probably wouldn't hold out for very long… "Get me Ravel," she ordered Oddeye.

---

"Uncle," pressed Ian, wearily.

"No," snapped Max. "I was against you coming even this far. Gods be good, Ian, you're barely recovered from what Eiku did to you. I'll not have you any closer than you have to be."

Ian kept quiet, frustrated. They'd been over this again and again. It was true that he was not up to his full capacity after the wound Eiku had given him, but a swordmaster would be of more use to Max at half-capacity than most men would be at their full capacity. "I can still protect better than any of your other men."

"Ian," he said patiently, "I'll be surrounded by loyal soldiers. I'll have Mae, Musashi, Hanzou, Tao, Lowe and more with me. There's to be no more discussion on this." Max started to turn, and then hesitated. "Ian?"

"Yes?" He didn't bother concealing his displeasure. Max had assigned him to help Jarl's unit, and while Ian liked the Lord Commander perfectly well, he felt uneasy, not being able to protect Max personally.

"I love you." Max's mouth worked for a moment, and then he muttered. "I'm needed now. Goodbye."

Ian sat there for a long moment. There was much in what his uncle had said, and Ian knew well enough that he was being silly in some ways. Even so… Eiku, he thought, had proven his point. Max was an excellent warrior and he was surrounded by good, loyal fighters. Ian had been much the same, but he had still been careless and the Commander had taken advantage of it. All Uncle Max needed to do was to make one little mistake…

He rose then, grimacing at the pain in his side. Uncle Max was also right to say that Ian wasn't in optimal condition. He supposed he should be grateful to be in the battle at all, but he didn't see it that way. All he had wanted was to protect Uncle Max.

---

Magus cackled drunkenly as the conflict began, but he quickly moderated himself when he saw how strongly the opposition was struggling. "Damn Alteronians," he muttered. "Never know when they've been beaten."

Quickly he began sketching out a hasty strategy in his mind. He was fairly confident that so long as he kept them off-balance, his greater numbers would tell. "You," he bellowed at a passing, liveried officer. "Form a squad and slip away and around. Take them from behind!"

The officer flung a salute at him, and Magus turned back to the field, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Had he not just hit on the height of cunning? Without another thought, he jogged forward, twirling his staff with expert skill. He could hear a ragged cheer setting in amongst his men.

"Freeze," shrieked Magus, triumphantly striking a small bunch of the enemy soldiers. "Attack them," he cried jubilantly. "See how they scatter before the wrath of the great Magus?" He turned his back on the enemy, cheering madly, spurring his soldiers on.

After that, Magus carefully kept a distance from the main front, striking in places where he thought it easy enough, to keep the confidence running high. The others all supposed him to be stupid, but did this not prove that he was in fact greatly cunning? A leader who led from the front would be one of the first to die.

He darted forward, quickly, smashing in the face of a particularly clumsy foe. As he did, however, he paused. He stared blankly for a few moments, before realizing exactly what these new enemy movements entailed. He gasped in outrage. "They dare… they think a mere surge will cut through my bold forces? They shall not defeat the Magus!"

With a growl of rage, Magus began the counter-attack. If, he reasoned, they responded to the forward surge themselves, they could break the enemy lines. Chuckling at his own cleverness, Magus nearly dashed forward to join in the epic battle. But, at the last moment, some little thing, some instinct of self-preservation kicked in, and he turned sharply to the left.

The sword whistled by his head, slashing open his cheek. Haiden stood there, facing him, larger than life. "You!" Magus said, almost indignantly. Then something worse occurred to him. "You've flanked us!"

He barely brought up his staff in time to counter the vicious overhead cut. Haiden actually grinned. "You're keeping up much better than I expected."

Magus purpled then, as much from rage as fear. He could feel terror gripping his chest. He had to get out, now, before the slaughter began. These lords of Alterone had tricked him too severely, his men were committed to a forward thrust, and Magus alone couldn't stop them. Magus alone couldn't stop Haiden's men from the flanking maneuver either.

Fighting with the desperation of a man bent on survival, Magus took the offensive. He hastily swung a battering blow at Haiden's knee, groin, chest, and then neck in quick succession. For a few moments, he seemed to have the lieutenant off guard, but then Haiden easily countered the last blow and brought his own blade across in a vicious slash. Magus caught the blow, half on his shoulder, and half on his chest. He stumbled and fell down, tears springing to his eyes.

Haiden loomed over him, a grim smile touching his face. "You always disappoint, Magus." He raised his blade for the killing strike.

In that final moment, Magus retreated to the last of his powers, the last hope for survival. "Freeze!" he bellowed with what strength he could find. The spell struck the lieutenant's sword, rather than his body, even as Magus lept up with all the alacrity he could manage. The strike was only slightly off, but Haiden's frozen weapon struck the floor with force, and shattered.

Magus struck straight into the Haiden's shocked face, before the lieutenant had a chance to react. The nose broke and blood sprayed everywhere. Growling with a sense of vindication, Magus struck again, even as Haiden started to raise his arm for a blow. Haiden staggered back, nearly bent double, his face twisted with pain. Giggling inanely, Magus crowed, "Freeze!"

The spell struck Haiden, driving him to the ground. As he fell, his eyes slid past Magus, staring over his shoulder. Taking no more time, Magus delivered a final crunching blow to the man, just to be sure. As Haiden lay there, in death, a slight smile appeared on his face. Magus turned to see what Haiden had seen, and his blood ran cold. His forces were in complete disarray, and the Alteronian's were winning, with their bold initiative…

Suddenly it seemed like an excellent time for Magus to slip away.

---

The attack had come suddenly, and without warning. In the halls before them, a force of Mishalea's men had appeared, seemingly under the joint command of Slit and Geshp. Musashi, fought with as much skill as he ever had, though not with so much fervor.

He had hoped to avoid this bloody encounter. That had been why he had gone to Mishalea…

With a low snarl, he expertly slew one of the soldiers making his way forward. Musashi couldn't say what had happened to all of the others; about half of the group had been swept away in the assault, including Lord Max and Tao.

In a way, he was grateful. It took responsibility for the treason, a decision that still rested heavily on his soul, out of his hands. On the other hand, it made him somewhat uneasy. Tao acted as though she was made of stone sometimes, but Musashi wasn't blind. This was very much part of a man-woman current that flowed between her and Lord Max, one that Lord Max was not entirely impervious to.

Yet the thought of that made him feel even worse. Was that what the treason really boiled down to? Musashi jogged forward, and that was when he saw him. Hanzou. Fighting his way through a crowd of soldiers. Musashi wasn't quite certain what pushed him forward at this point. Perhaps a desire to escape from his own guilty, probing thoughts?

With light, delicate movements, Musashi sprang forward, his blade stretched out before him, and without another thought, he drove it through Hanzou's back. The ninja went sprawling to the ground. Musashi froze. He could hear his own appalled breathing. Betraying the Shining Force had gone against nearly every principle that he had, but that had still had its own honor. He had wanted to stop the suffering. This though…

The ninja forced himself to his knees, taking in the shocked visage of his slayer. Blood dribbled from Hanzou's wound as he forced the words to his lips. "From… behind?"

Musashi gave vent to a hoarse cry, at that harsh mockery, remembering when he had once said those very words to Hanzou. In that moment, Musashi realized numbly that everything he had done over the past few weeks had been horribly, irrevocably wrong. He turned and ran. He thought he heard voices from a past life calling his name, but he didn't stop. He ran.

And that was when he heard a voice that he most certainly recognized. An unctuous, if shaken voice. "Wait! Wait you fool!"

He turned and bounded back to where he found Geshp. The plump devil was whey-faced and frightened. "It's all lost," he gasped. "Between us, we can flee from here… arg!"

Musashi kept his grip around Geshp's throat, calmly lifting the devil to dangle in the air. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here, you lying scum." It wasn't a question. Geshp gasped, twisting in Musashi's iron grip.

"We… are allies," he gritted. He shifted again, kicking now. "Wouldn't…" he croaked, "wouldn't… renege your… honor!"

"I've already done that," Musashi replied. "I call this redemption." His grip started to tighten, but in the next moment, Musashi felt the world spinning around him and he realized that Geshp had cast a spell.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a dark cell, and a figure stood over him, dressed in the remnants of armor, with an elaborate mask covering its face. Groaning the samurai sat up. His host rubbed its hands together, instigating a dry, crackling sound. "Should've killed you," it muttered in a deep baritone. "Seen me now. I must be getting soft."

Musashi said, feeling sick, "I killed a man…"

The other one, a man Musashi was fairly certain, chuckled sardonically. "Is that all. Well, welcome. Nobody'll ever find you here. Same way they'll never find me."

"Too late for that. They attacked. The Shining Force. Mishalea won't last much longer."

"What?" Standing unnaturally tall, the other surged to his feet, shock and anger clear in his voice. "This is not good," he mused, seemingly to himself. Shaking himself thoroughly, he approached the door and wrenched it open. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. "Coming?"

Musashi slowly rose. "What's your name?"

"You may call me a fool, if you must call me something." With that, the being of armor strode out of the door and into the barely lighter halls. Musashi realized that they must be in a very low level of Skull Castle. It only took him a moment to decide to run after his stranger benefactor. He may have betrayed Lord Max, but he could be loyal to the one that had spared his life.

---

Slit hit the ground with a frightened whimper. The lizardman had fought with all the barbaric ferocity of his kind, but now he was truly defeated. Max of the Shining Force slammed onto his fallen body, his pulsing green blade at Slit's nervous throat.

The lizardman had never seen so much rage in any one person's countenance. He could see just how much Max wanted to kill him, and he couldn't even imagine the strength of will that it was taking the famous war-leader to sublimate that urge.

"Please," begged the lizardman. "I vill be your slave. I vill lead you to Mishalea. I know many sings. I vill be faisful to you. I vill do anysing… Please!" His dreams of glory had quickly been replaced by self-preservation.

Max slapped him. "Not another word," he said, in a lowly urgent voice. "You will live. But only to take my message back to your mistress. I will give her this one chance to bend the knee. You will tell her. You've seen our power."

"A message," gasped Slit, eager to please. "Yes, of course. Anysing you say my lord." Slowly Max picked himself up, holding himself tensely. Slit stumbled to his feet ungracefully and sped away as quickly as he could manage.

---

Kisaragi had stalked them for a long time now. Her aims had been frustrated when Max, contrary to her expectations, had allowed his nephew to join in the final battle. She would have found her way to the wounded swordmaster regardless, but then Slit had attacked the Shining Force like the fool that he was, and she had been unable to risk going further.

Now she calmly surveyed the group that had been separated from Max, composed, mostly, of his most trusted commanders. Mae the centaur led them, and the elderly dwarf by her side could only be Gort. Amongst their forces, she also recognized the healer, Lowe.

It seemed, however, that there was a chance worth taking here. Kisaragi stepped forward lightly, but then, lightening quick, one of the unfamiliar men turned, ready for combat. He was tall and lean, with long-flowing red hair, obviously a ninja of sorts himself.

Kisaragi had no chance, but at that same moment, the man froze like a statue and whispered, "Kisaragi?"

In that single moment, fog lifted from her mind, but her instincts had already taken over and she struck. Ruburan, she recognized him now, crumpled before her in death. "No," whispered Kisaragi, as all the memories came rushing back to her.

Still, her years as an assassin, amongst other things, for Dava, allowed her immediate techniques for self-preservation. She jumped up, away from his corpse even as Mae and the others closed in. Throwing up her arms, she said, "Wait, no, stop!" Quickly dodging a lance thrust from Mae, she cried, "It's not what it seems."

Mae muttered, "This lousy thing's no good." She tossed her lance away, and gave Kisaragi a very direct look. "Fractured in the fighting. And not what it seems. I'll bet that it is, but if it isn't, it won't be the first thing in this war. Say your piece."

She said in momentary surprise, "You're… letting me live?"

"For a few moments anyway. We wouldn't be here if Max hadn't given Warderer the same courtesy. So I'm waiting to see if you have anything worth saying."

"I know that I killed him and that I seem to be working for Mishalea, but… but that's a mistake." Mae raised her eyebrows, obviously taking the pronouncement well salted.

"And?"

"And," said Kisaragi, surprising even herself, "Max is about to be betrayed."

---

"That mage," muttered Ian. He'd been holding back in the fight some. Uncle Max had been right about that much, he wasn't in any great condition to be fighting, although he could still do it and do it better than most. It was the mage that bothered him. The mage would have to be killed. Without such a… well, inspiring leader, Mishalea's forces would most like fall quickly to Jarl.

The Lord Commander had proven himself to be a most accomplished warrior and a very courteous man. But it was Alain who had proven to be the real hero of the day. "The boy's giving them courage," Ian mused aloud.

The mage general was inspiring his troops to frenzy, but Alain, that bright and shining knight, had thrice charged into the very fury, driving the enemies back with the courage that he inspired.

Ian started edging closer to the battlefield, frowning as the mage commander started capering and gibbering, his eyes glowing manically even at this distance. His instincts told him that something was very wrong, and Ian's instincts had only ever failed him when he didn't pay them enough attention.

The mage suddenly shrieked out the words to some sort of spell and a bolt of lightning streaked out, striking a pillar… Ian was suddenly moving forward, barely processing what he knew was about to happen, secure in only two facts. The mage would have to die. And he would kill the man quickly.

There was a groaning and roaring of rocks and the pillar came crashing down into Jarl's forces. Ian knew that the death would be somewhat widespread, but he was also certain that there was a primary purpose to the fall of the pillar. Jarl's bellows confirmed the fact as Ian broke into a run, ignoring the protest in his side.

"Alain! Alain!"

Ian dodged around men and cut others down, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the gibbering mage. As he got closer, the mage turned his face unnaturally pleased. And Ian lept through the air, as the mage blasted flames at where he had been running. Feeling the heat beneath him, Ian ripped out his sword and crashed straight into the mage, who was staring at him, shocked.

The two went tumbling, the mage taking much the worse of the fall. He started to raise his head whispering, "Light… loving… fo…fo…" The man's face was manic in its hatred, and the eyes seemed to glow with an intensity of their own. Ian could feel his own disgust rising like bile in his throat. Using the last of his strength, Ian turned the blade, and forced the edge down on the mage's throat.

---

Paezorta just sat in the wreckage of Nosshu's rooms, studying his hands. They were shaking. With a low groan, he buried his face in them. Nosshu had been there, and the spy had nearly killed Paezorta. The High Captain did not ask why. In his heart, he knew the answer. Mishalea had ordered Nosshu to do so. Mishalea had ordered him killed.

The thought filled him up with a black sorrow that couldn't quite manage to be rage. All Paezorta's life, he had been alone, unwanted. Pazort had never given a damn about him, and Mishalea… Paezorta didn't bother trying to rationalize the tears that now ran openly down his face. He had loved Mishalea. Perhaps he still did. What was the good of knowing for certain?

With a sudden burst of energy, he surged to his feet. Nosshu had taken him off guard. The spy could have killed him, though Paezorta had fought back. But at the last moment, Nosshu himself had held back, and had abruptly fled. Paezorta tried not to reason that out either. It tasted suspiciously like pity, and he would not accept that.

Suddenly, violently, he swore, ripping the badge of office off of his chest. Stalking angrily to the door, the dark elf and Inferior Vandal muttered to himself, "That is it. Mishalea and I are through."

---

"Splendid work, Dantom," crooned Death Woldol.

The undead tiger clutched his captive tightly, though the dwarf kept struggling. "Lemme go!" he roared.

Death Woldol smiled broadly. "This is really too superb. The hatred in this one… it's perfect. Yes he'll do very well."

A crafty expression came into the dwarf's eyes. "Do? Well, when it come ter that, ole Ridion's a mighty sight to doin' things. What do ye want o' me?"

Death Woldol chuckled. "Why, I want you to die. What else would a dead man want?" So saying, he casually drove the dagger through the dwarf's heart. "This is really the perfect sacrifice. We are nearly there. Dantom, I have just one little task for you. Make sure that the Chaos Breaker does not win through."

---

Warderer burst through the door, ready to find Mishalea or one of her lackeys, armed with his sacrificial dagger. Sitting calmly at a desk, writing something or other, he found Ravel.

"Your Grace," Ravel said. "I am pleased to see that you are well, but I urge you most strongly to leave immediately. Mishalea will not settle for anything less than your death. If you flee, however, you may be safe till she is safely gone." The former lieutenant rose to his feet, but immediately dropped to his knees. "My beloved king, I would not kill you," he cried.

Warderer hesitated for just a moment, taken off-guard. It was strange the way those words tugged at him. But being the king of Iom was merely a habit, and an unattractive one at that. The weakened former king was barely ready when Ravel sprang forward, his own dagger in hand.

Blindly thrusting his blade out, Warderer and Ravel crashed to the floor. Warderer didn't feel any struggling, so he assumed Ravel must be dead. He moved weakly, coughing. He did not mean to die before Mishalea did. He heard the heavy thud of footsteps and the door crashed open.

Warderer could barely see at all, but he heard that deep voice clearly enough. "Dead? Yes, but then this one…" There was a long pause. "Better off dead," the voice decided, and Warderer felt a strong hand closing around his throat.

---

Mishalea was fingering Oddeye's sword when she saw him. Her gaze narrowed with something rather more than annoyance. "High Commander Slit. What on earth are you doing, trying to slink past this shrine? Why aren't you out there defeating my foes?"

She was careful to keep too much of the anger from spilling over into her tone. The lizardman shuffled in, looking somewhat shamefaced. He also looked much the worse for wear.

He quickly began garbling, "Sere vas a battle… and, se ah, se Lord Max, he spared me. He vanted me to give you his… his vords! He said-"

She killed him with a single strike of the blade. "I don't care what he said."

---

"Kari," gasped Bangar, barely keeping her in sight. "Pleassse… it'sss all lossst! The Shining Force… isss too strong. Mishalea will fall. Pleassse! Don't leave me here."

The blue woman paused for a just a moment, glancing at him with contempt evident in her gaze. "Stop whining, you oaf. I'll keep you if you can keep up."

---

Nosshu ran down the corridors, glancing nervously around him. The melancholy spy had never been more depressed in his life. Mishalea had ordered him to murder Paezorta, and he very nearly had. He still didn't know what had stayed his hand, but he knew this much; he and Mishalea were through.

The human had hated himself for what he'd done for a long time, but only now had he found the courage to break away. It wasn't so much that he had made the wrong choice, it was what he'd discovered in himself. He'd done countless, unspeakable things at Mishalea's behest, and some part of him had done these things callously, or with pleasure.

The knowledge had wrecked Nosshu, and for a long time he hadn't had the strength to resist. Now however, he was doing the only thing that he knew he could. It didn't prove anything, but Nosshu would still run away. What he wanted, more than anything was to go to Ian on bended knee, to beg him for forgiveness, to atone. He had never truly betrayed them, after all. He had thought that should he get close enough to Mishalea, learn her weaknesses, and betray her… But she had power over men's hearts and she had wakened the monster inside Nosshu himself.

_I can't Chief Ruburan. I can't. _

It was then, as he was doing possibly the bravest thing he had ever done in his life, that Nosshu saw another running figure. Slowly he drew his sword, not really sure what he would do. He called out the name of a man he had once regarded as an ally. "Magus."

The oafish looking general turned, jumping apprehensively. "Nosshu," he croaked. "It's lost. I wasn't… I was…"

Feeling something roaring to life in his chest, Nosshu abruptly threw the sword, which crashed through Magus's chest to the stone cold floor, leaving Magus dead. After a final moment of hesitation, Nosshu walked away.

---

Max was uneasy. He was confident that the attack against them by Slit had been unplanned, but it had had devastating effects, nonetheless. Of all the trusty warriors he had brought with him, by the end of it, the only one left was Tao.

That wasn't to say that he supposed them all to be dead, although, realistically, a few of them probably were, but the fact that they had been separated plagued his thoughts. He couldn't very well challenge Mishalea and whomever she had guarding her with only Tao at his side.

Still, she had argued most eloquently the need to keep moving while Mishalea was off-balance. Max recognized where they were. It was uncomfortably close to the shrine. Tao was still moving, slightly behind him, eagerly, when Max stopped.

"We'll stop here for a bit," he declared. Even assuming none of his men found them, a small rest would give Max a much better chance of succeeding at this confrontation.

"Max," said Tao anxiously.

"I know what you've said, but we honestly need to do this Tao. It won't be so bad." He felt a little guilty. He hadn't had much time for her lately, and he made up his mind to rectify that mistake right now.

"We're not stopping!" she shouted.

Time froze as Max turned around, denying the roaring in his ears. But it was too late. He had heard it all in that frantic cry, and as he met her gaze, her face confirmed it. Therein he saw all the hatred, all the triumph, all the guilt…

_Tao? No! _

It broke his heart. She was already moving, blowing flames to life, lashing them out at him. He fumbled clumsily with the Chaos Breaker, aware that he could cut her down in one easy strike. But he couldn't really. He couldn't kill Tao. Not her. Not this woman.

"Tao," he begged, countering a direct blow from her staff, "_please_!"

She paused at that, and something came over her countenance. She gritted out between clenched teeth, "I never wanted your war."

Max stumbled to a halt, shocked at the dark heart she had just revealed to him. She started to move in for the killing blow, and Max felt his will weaken. She would kill him, because he couldn't stop her…

"Max!" The cry echoed out, and Tao's eyes opened wide as a blow from behind forced her to her knees.

"Mae," he gasped, dropping his sword. "Don't! Let me talk to her."

Even as he said that, the elven mage dived for the sword, and so did Mae. Max stared numbly for a moment, distracted by the fact that the centaur didn't have her lance, but only for a moment. They didn't even scrabble for it. Mae was faster. She had always been faster.

Coming up, holding the sword, Mae said coldly, "I hope you've made your peace with the gods, traitor."

"Mae!" pleaded Max.

"No!" screamed Tao.

Mae opened the mage's throat without a moment's delay. Tao fell to the ground, and Max caught her, holding her last gaze of life. He knelt there for what seemed to be a long time until he finally said, "It didn't have to be this way."

Mae looked absolutely exhausted. "Max… I'm sorry." He could hear it all in her voice. Mae genuinely was sorry, for his sake. Sorry that Tao had betrayed him and sorry that she had had to kill Tao. Tears beading in his eyes, Max finally looked up, and saw most of the others gathering behind Mae.

Finally he forced himself to his feet, accepting the sword from her. "Where's Hanzou? And Musashi?"

There was a long uncomfortable silence which Lowe finally broke. "Musashi ran away… after killing Hanzou. I saw it myself."

"Mishalea," swore Max, turning around. "I can't care about anything else. It's time to end her." With that he stepped forward, his visage once again that of the lord of the Shining Force and he knew that the rest followed.

He drew into the shrine, and there she stood, beautiful, and yearning, and treacherous. She stared back at him with wide eyes, and somehow, something in her demeanor seemed changed. A lack of confidence perhaps? Standing by the statue, his back turned to them was Oddeye.

Max started to open his mouth, but another voice, hoarse and sad broke over them all. "Oddler." Gort took two unsteady steps forward.

When Oddeye turned, he did so resolutely, and his voice held no uncertainty. "If you come any closer, I will be obliged to kill you."

Gort continued though, his axe at the ready, his voice hoarse and shaking. "Oddler. Thaht's who ye be, ahn, thaht's how Ah'll remember yae. Weh already said it all, to each ohther, boot, Ah'll say it again. Ah love you, Oddler. Ahn, thaht's why Ah'll kill ye."

Oddeye stepped forward calmly, and with a shrieking clang, sword met axe. Oddeye twisted gracefully, pulling his sword arm back, and nearly wrenching the axe from Gort's grasp, but the elderly dwarf kicked Oddeye's foot, and slammed himself hard against the devil's leg.

Oddeye recovered swiftly, turning back, and crunching a gauntleted hand into Gort's side, even as he leant away, turning Gort's weight against him. The dwarf stumbled forward hard and Oddeye's sword flashed down, wounding Gort's hand.

The dwarf wrenched the axe upward so that the wooden pole slammed into Oddeye's chin, but the devil was barely fazed. He kicked next, hitting Gort's knee, and the dwarf twisted down hard, as Oddeye's blade followed, slashing his forehead open, slightly.

Oddeye started in for the kill, and then put one foot back, as if in hesitation, for half a moment. Gort, moving with the momentum of his fall, swept his axe along the side, so that it crashed into Oddeye's foot like a lever. Oddeye stumbled to the side, even as he tried to bring his foot back up, and twisted and fell himself, far over the edge of the shrine, to the eerily glowing substance below.

---

In the final moments of his life, Oddeye reconciled himself to three things. The first and easiest of them was that he and Gort had been real friends. Had they not been, he would not be falling to his death now. The second was a final resolving of his feelings towards Cameela. He had respected the general, and perhaps he had loved her as well, after a fashion.

Still, he could be comforted in the fact that, although he would never know how he felt about her for certain, he did know that they had shared something and that would not be taken from him.

The final thing, and the hardest, was the recognition that he was both Oddler and Oddeye. He couldn't remember the original Oddler, but Gort had unlocked him, Cameela had known him, and Nosshu had comforted him. Oddeye had been loyal to his king and Oddler had been loyal to something else.

There was only one thing more. As he fell, faster and faster, he could see only the jutting monstrosity of Darksol's bound form. Oddeye murmured to himself, "I will not die, just a devil." And so he summoned that energy within his blinded eye, and shot it up in a brilliant arc, towards the statue.

---

Light suddenly flared up with blinding, crackling force and Lord Darksol was gone. Lord Darksol was gone. Mishalea forgot Max. Mishalea forgot everything but the welter of images suddenly flooding her brain.

She saw, with horror, happy laughing people, a running stream, that hideous face from her nightmares… she saw her life through some other eyes, she saw Max again in his compassion, she saw her son Mephisto and she saw Warderer. Most of all, she saw herself, or someone almost like her.

With a growing horror of understanding, Mishalea stared numbly at the rubble that had once been Darksol, he who had dominated most of her existence. And she turned, running from him, desperate to escape the unholy grasp of her memories.

---

Max stood there, numbly, not quite processing what he was seeing. It had all happened so fast, one moment, Oddeye had been slain, then the statue had seemingly exploded and now… Mishalea struggled in the grasp of Mae and some strange woman that Max didn't recognize.

She was gibbering in an unknown tongue, screaming, and sobbing. The sudden transformation was astounding. Max came forward, feeling remarkably cold at the moment. He seized Mishalea by the shoulder and spun her around. "Mishalea," he commanded.

She stared vacantly at him, her lips moving, but he couldn't tell what she was saying. It was enough to satisfy him. Whatever had happened, her mind was broken. There remained only one thing to do. He drew the Chaos Breaker, slowly, prepared to finally kill her.

That was when there was a feral snarl and a clawed whirlwind lept into him. Max went crashing back, the Chaos Breaker sliding from his grasp. Mishalea went spinning to the ground, ripped nearly into two pieces and a beastman, almost like a tiger, lept forward again.

It took Max a moment to realize that he was still alive. The beastman was going after the sword, not him. He started to stagger to his feet, when a crooning voice echoed around the shrine, "This is better than a play. To think that I should witness the final act, before preparing the climax!"

Max followed the voice, and stared in shock. A dead man was standing in the air, next to a doorway. He heard Anri's voice. "Woldol."

The undead man bowed mockingly. "That is now Death Woldol, my dear lady. And I'm afraid that I have an appointment to make… for all of you." He snapped his fingers. "Dantom!" The beastman growled again, and tossed the Chaos Breaker over the edge.

"That takes care of that," chuckled Death Woldol.

In that moment, a high squeaky voice interrupted Death Woldol's theatrics. "Give it to me!" Max turned, beholding Jogurt for the first time since the night he had 'died.' The hamster was pawing at something on Mishalea's belt.

Death Woldol chuckled again, though, just like the first time, he did not sound amused. "What are you looking for, rodent?"

Jogurt slowly stood upright. "Well," he said amiably, "I really just wanted this." So saying, he launched himself into the air, throwing Mishalea's crystal straight through Death Woldol's midsection. The undead creature gasped, "My… essence…"

Even as he said that, he seemed somehow to become faded out, less real. But Max's eye was drawn to something even more shocking. The tip of the crystal was touching the inside of the door, and there, visibly energy… aether, almost, was being drawn out. There was another dreadful moment of this, and then, the crystal shattered in an explosion.

Max could see the doorway slowly shaking into another violent oblivion, and in desperation of the moment, repeated what he had done last he had been in the shrine. "EGRESS!"

---

Kisaragi was the only one that she could see who had managed to keep to her feet. The radius of the egress spell had been absurdly huge, it had covered nearly the whole of the castle, and the backlash had gone rather beyond enormous.

For a moment, she felt dizzy concern about this, but as she looked, it was clear that most of them had still survived. Only the weaker ones would have died in the backlash.

Gasping in relief, Kisaragi nearly fell back; when her eye fell on the one other person she could still see standing. Summoning up as much strength as she could, she lept forward, slicing into Dantom. Her blade was enchanted so she knew that the undead beast would not survive. Even as Dantom died, she gasped and fell down herself, muttering, "Sleep, Dantom. Let them sleep."


	51. Chapter 51: Epilogue

Epilogue

He walked into the bar as the sun began its downward spiral. The bartender looked up as he entered and grunted, "Evenin'. Haven't seen you here before."

"Is it a crime to be new?" He jutted his newly shaved jaw out as he asked the question.

"Just sayin'," muttered the bartender. He stopped polishing some bottles for a moment. "Here, what'll you have?"

"Ale."

"Oh aye." The man rummaged around behind his counter for a few moments, and then came up with a bottle. He gently wrestled the cork out and poured the dark liquor for his customer. "Merchant, I suppose? Been a lot of those lately, ever since the Lord Regent started cleaning the area up."

Accepting the ale with one hand he said, "No. I do a bit of this and a bit of that. Traveling through mostly."

At that, the bartender stopped and looked at him, very hard. "Okay," he said at last, and went back to his work, whistling lightly.

The voice whispered in his ear, _He suspects something. You should have given him a more convincing story. Or better yet, you should have asked him what he was talking about. _

"Quiet you," he muttered aloud. He didn't often hold conversations with his companion aloud, anymore. But tonight he was irritable and in no mood to be nagged incessantly.

He walked along quietly, sitting down at a table close to a cluster of other customers. "Tain't right," one of them was saying. He was an old man with the look of a farmer about him and a scruffy white beard. "Tain't right, him lording it over us like this."

A second man said nervously, "You talk too much. Talk daft like. You shouldn't be sayin' things."

The older man refused to be mollified. "So what if 'e war is goin' on? He ain't one o' us, he shouldn't lord it over us."

A big man with a bushy brown beard and a strong face chuckled. "From what I hear, the war's over. They say that the army's returning. You won't have much to complain about."

The old man's eyes bulged with temper. "I got me 'plenty to complain about. What about young King Regis? 'E mayn't 'ave been much, but 'e was our proper king. I says that this Ward done him in!"

The second man stirred uneasily. "Don't say things like that," he begged.

The voice meanwhile said crossly, _Pay attention to me you blithering idiot. See? This was worth finding out! Ask them more. Ingratiate yourself. Do something! _

He responded furiously, "Shut up, I'm in no mind t…" He stopped, realizing that he'd spoken out loud again and this time drawn the attention of the group of men.

The big one leant over and said threateningly, "Stranger, you must have stones of steel to speak to us this way."

Improvising rapidly he said, "Oh, I only meant that your friend here isn't the only one to think that. We've all heard the rumors about Ward, haven't we?"

A third man who had been quiet all the while suddenly spat. "I don't care what you lot say. His lordship is a good and fine man. He's the only one that's done anything for us while this bloody 'important' war's been going on. I ask you, mates, who finally done something about the infestation of bandits? Who spent coin from his own coffers to fix up Guardiana _an_' Alterone?"

A frosty silence followed this speech, but he could hear the mental gasp. _Insolence._

Remembering to be silent this time, he gritted, _It's only insolence if it's meant to be. Otherwise it's just stupid. _

The voice said irritably, _You may as well hurry up with this. _

With difficulty, he managed to pay the voice no mind, turning to the group who had started to talk again. The big bearded one was saying loudly, "I hear that the Lord Regent's going to give out a title to whoever takes care of the worst of those bandits. Alfred's gang. You know."

This caught the man's attention. He turned and stared hard at the group, but, for the most part, the four men had lapsed into silence, offering only the occasional mulish comment. For all that though, he sat there for a while, nursing his ale, listening to what little they offered.

It wasn't much, but what little he did hear was enlightening. This far from the main front and Magus already forgotten, the war didn't seem very real to these people. Some of them certainly got behind the main idea, but, interestingly enough, Ward seemed to be concentrating on shoring up a reputation for doing well in local politics.

Of course, there was a mixture of opinion there as well, but, if he was any judge, the complaints against Ward seemed to be a distinct minority. Finishing his ale, he signaled the buxom barmaid over.

She was prompt enough and began pouring. Feeling rather bored as he waited for the right moment, he boldly reached up and squeezed her left breast. She gave him a fairly disgusted look, but, other than that, seemed not to mind his familiarity. Consequently, when she started to turn around he also gave her ample bottom a squeeze. She scooted primly off when his bored hand started searching a little lower, though.

Finally the opportunity he'd been waiting for came when the big bearded man turned, obviously about to bellow for a refill.

He quickly stood, flipping a gold coin out from between his knuckles. The bearded man saw this, hesitated a moment, and then stomped over to his table. "You buying?"

"Maybe." The man considered several approaches and finally settled for the simplest. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

The bearded man looked truly affronted. "You mean to say you don't know?" He growled. "Everybody knows Rodrik the Terrible! Best mercenary around." He thumped his chest for effect.

"Rodrik the Terrible," he repeated, trying the name out on his tongue. Finally he leant forward, glancing out of the window as he did so. The last rays of a bloody sun were disappearing. "As a matter of fact, I heard what you said about Lord Ward's reward… and I know about these bandits."

A slow smile crept across Rodrik's face. "Oho. Ohoho. So that's the way of it. Keep talking."

Unable to resist a brief chuckle, Alf was only too happy to oblige.


	52. Chapter 52: Dramatis Personae

_Dramatis Personae_

**Shining Force**

Max: Leader of the Shining Force. He leads the war against Mishalea. Human.

Mae: Max's second in-command. A centaur with a somewhat painful recent past.

Gort: An old dwarf who acts unofficially as the Lieutenant for the Shining Force.

Princess Anri: Due to recent political machinations she is Queen. A valued member of the Force. Human.

Tao: A fiery and emotional elven mage who is deeply attached to Max.

Lowe: Primary healer of the group. Max's closest friend, generally well-liked. Human.

Ken: Scout Captain to the group. Stolid and unremarkable. Centaur.

Luke: A bold knight of Guardiana, childhood friend of Hans. Greatly depended upon. Dwarf.

Hans: An elven archer who, though valuable and loyal, has tinkerings with women and a superior opinion of himself.

Gong: A solitary monk, but useful healer and fighter. Says little and is rather intelligent. Origins unknown.

Khris: The group's other healer. Kyantol.

Arthur: Centaur knight who knows a little magic. Is inclined to various vices, particularly women.

Balbaroy: A powerful birdwarrior. Colorful personality.

Amon: Wife of the above. Birdwarrior.

Diane: Kind at heart, but inclined to be flirtatious. An elven archer.

Zylo: Werewolf lord of Bustoke with appreciated scouting/tracking abilities.

Pelle: Mercenary centaur knight. Rather unremarkable.

Vankar: A good fighter, but a drunkard. Centaur.

Jogurt: An unnaturally large hamster wearing a football helmet. A great friend of Max.

Kokichi: An old inventor. A strong warrior, and wise, but rather eccentric. Human.

Guntz: A half-armadillo creature in a steamsuit. Stolid and friendly.

Earnest: Broody and brilliant centaur warrior.

Alef: A powerful mage of Prompt bonded with Torasu.

Torasu: A very old healer, but quite capable. Somewhat unpredictable.

Lyle: An open centaur archer. Typically smiles.

Bleu: A dragon of the utmost honor. Primary air support in combat.

Adam: A robot with absolute loyalty to Max.

Musashi: A strong samurai warrior. Follows a rigorous code of honor. Human.

Hanzou: A human ninja who tends to see things the way they are.

**Second Division **

Prince Nick: Leader of the Cypress party that allied itself with the Shining Force. He leads the war against Iom and Dava.

Ruce: A powerful dwarven warrior. Nick's greatest friend and confidant.

Apis: A cool-headed centaur.

Shade: An elven archer of easy manner.

Wendy: An elven mage.

Sig: A human monk. Hates fire magic.

Cray: A human monk with one missing eye.

Claude: A powerful birdwarrior of unquestioned loyalty.

Mayfair: A priestess with strong loyalty to Cypress.

Stock: A centaur ranger who stayed behind to guard Cypress Castle.

Yeesha: The court mage of Cypress.

**Third Division**

Deanna: Mysterious young swordsman. Commander of some Cyprian guards.

Natasha: Powerful young mage.

Dawn: A reliable centaur warrior, intelligent.

Eric: A young centaur inclined to slacking off.

Jaha: Friend of the above, a dwarf who wears a pot on his head.

Luke: Friend of the above two. Human monk.

Slade: A local Cyprian healer.

Graham: A centaur bowknight, solemn.

**Fourth Division**

Ian: Nephew to Max trained as a swordmaster.

Mead: Centaur warrior. Open and friendly.

Paige: Cynical young dwarf.

Hawel: Academic young mage. Human.

Knuckles: A human monk inclined to laziness, but essentially well-natured.

Sonette: An elven archer. Direct.

Cynthia: A human healer with an affection for Ian.

Ruburan: Once the leader of a band of thieves, he now follows Ian.

Kiddo: A birdwarrior and excellent scout.

Sylvia: A powerful centaur knight. Says little.

Julia: A birdwarrior, well-spoken.

Eric: A half-dragon, loyal and smart.

Minto: A kyantol mage.

Morton: An old human monk, Ian relies on his experience.

Sazuke: A savage looking ninja.

Ridion: An old dwarf, one of the pillars of Ian's life.

Kojirou: A human samurai.

**General Allies **

King Guardiana: The King of Guardiana until his untimely demise at the Guardiana Sack

Councilor Nova: A scholarly advisor to King Guardiana. Slain in the Guardiana Sack

Lord Commander Varios: Lord Commander of Guardiana. Slain in the Guardiana Sack.

Lord Ward: A bitter middle-aged man, he acts as Regent in Guardiana

Lord Commander Jarl: The replacement of Varios as Lord Commander.

Alain: Son of Jarl.

**Freedom Fighters **

King Nicholas I: The founder of the Freedom Fighters and contested King of Cypress.

Gyan: The leader of the freedom fighters, a court retainer.

Kashing: Elderly centaur. Freedom Fighter, formerly a minor lord.

Gates: Dwarven Freedom Fighter.

Shriek: Birdwarrior. Freedom Fighter.

Randolph: Centaur Freedom Fighter, formerly a royal guard.

Chester: Elven archer, Freedom Fighter

May: Kyantol mage, Freedom Fighter

Rhode: Dwarven warrior, Freedom Fighter

Sarah: Kyantol healer, Freedom Fighter, a powerful noble.

**Alterone**

King: The King of Alterone, considered as weak-willed.

General Torl: The leader of Alterone's military, fanatically devoted to the King.

Lieutenant Haiden: Torl's right hand man.

**Manarina**

Lord Otrant: High mage of Manarina, many rumors circulate as to his origins.

Felic Ugan: An apprentice mage of some note.

**Rindo **

Rindo Militia: The small military force of Rindo, no apparent leader.

**Bustoke**

Viktor: A stone-cutter of Bustoke, he leads the small militia.

Jon the Alchemist: The Alchemist of Bustoke, rather eccentric

**Pao**

Queen Koron: Diminutive ruler of the nomadic tribe of Pao.

Xotho: The most powerful warrior of Pao.

**Rudo**

Karin: Leader of Rudo. A girl child of seven. Surprisingly mature.

Krin: Karin's sister, also seven. Studious.

Brit: Krin's dog, somewhat fierce.

**Of no specific attachment**

Dustan: A peasant, enslaved, leader of a rebellion.

Ara: A peasant, enslaved, second leader of the rebellion.

Ferik: A peasant, enslaved, third leader of the rebellion.

Oddler: A young man rescued by the Shining Force.

**Enemies of the Shining Force**

**Runefaust (formerly known as Protectora) **

King Ramaladu: The King of Runefaust, killed in the fall of the Runefaust Conspiracy.

Mahato: Steward of Runefaust, assassinated.

Balbazak the Beastly: A brutal general in service of Ramaladu. Perished in the battle of the Guardiana Plains.

General Elliot: A dragon warrior, missing.

Lord Kane: Max's brother.

**Disciples of the Darkness**

**Iom**

Warderer: A brilliant sorcerer. Considered to be too emotional. Origins unknown.

Hindel: Sometimes called "The Black Knight," Warderer's right hand.

Barbara: The most powerful Iom general. Rash.

Lord Solo: A greasy, older man. Serves with distinction.

Gordon: The weakest of Warderer's lieutenants, longs for power.

Harkan: Subordinate of Solo. Leader of the Nar

Luagor: A peasant slave who spies for Solo.

Ravel: A brilliant lieutenant in the army.

Uglu: Leader against the Freedom Fighters, holds Cypress.

**Zeon **

Zeon: King of the Devils. Traditionally wars against Darksol.

King Galam: A human king, controlled by a devil.

Sir Oddeye: The second of Zeon, of somewhat ambiguous motives.

Advisor Geshp: Zeon's personal advisor, of a dubious personality.

Red Baron: A possessed human of no free will. A brutal instrument of murder.

Cameela: A hot-headed general.

Zalbard: A magician who gets by on brains alone.

Mal: Zalbard's lieutenant.

**Dava**

Dava: A spiriter, the most powerful of her kind.

Bulldor: Her senior lieutenant.

Kisaragi: A ninja woman who usually undertakes missions of espionage.

Chu Rao: A fat general.

Baron: A Greater Spirit.

Ull: Captain of the Spirit zombies.

Rashag: Impetuous soldier.

Fenga: His mate.

Krull: Soldier

Durrant: Soldier

Karr: Soldier

**Survivors of the Odegan Incident**

Kari: Devious, beautiful, and blue.

Gwaid: A taciturn dragon warrior.

Bangar: An obnoxious reptile, rules water.

Alfred: Intelligent, hot-tempered psychotic

**Vandals**

Rilix: An embittered crone.

Elise: The beautiful sister of Rilix.

**The Undead**

Death Woldol: Former servant of Iom.

Bazoo: His right-hand wizard.

Dantom: The only general left dead.

King Edmond: Pitiful figure who had his mind twisted by Woldol when they were alive. Also known as 'the Usurper'

Frabell: A paladin general, somewhat lacking in intelligence.

Gepple: Formerly a weapons-master.

**Darksol: **

Mishalea: A dark elf. She started this war.

High Captain Paezorta: Her most elevated servant. Also a dark elf.

High Commander Lynx: Overall commander of the armies, he holds honor above life.

Sub-Commander Eiku: A bitter man who oversees much of the war effort.

Magus: Too steeped in his vices to be much of a general.

Nosshu: He oversees Mishalea's spy network.

Kalvar: The best agent of Nosshu.

Rente: Also a favored agent.

Brogan: Supreme General.

Zocc: Subordinate of Lynx.

Number One: Lynx's senior lieutenant

Riker: A general of Lynx

Fat Man: A general of Lynx

Clatt: A stuttering mage of Lynx's army

Cellion: Eiku's right hand.

Rippclaw: Leader of the lizardmen.

Slit: A lizardman in Rippclaw's service.

Tarbeck: Mishalea's Chief Gaoler.

**Of no specific attachment **

**Neutral **

Galm: A powerful Vandal who serves no one.


End file.
